IC-NI 


fib    MD1 


OF 
JEROME  B.  LANPFIELD 


IN    JOYFUL    RUSSIA 


BY 

JOHN   A.   LOGAN,  JR. 


WITH  MANY  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOURS 
AND  BLACK  AND   WHITE 


SECOND   EDITION 


NEW     YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1897, 
BY  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


*fa 

/'{0  f 


8 


TO  MY  WIPE, 

WHO  SHEPHERDED  OUE  LITTLE   FLOCK  WHILE  I  TRAVELLED, 

I    DEDICATE, 

WITH    GREAT    LOVE    AND    AFFECTION, 
THIS   FIRST   FRUIT  OF   MY  PEN. 


PEEFACE. 


THIS  book  is  neither  a  social  tract,  a  political  or  eco- 
nomic study,  nor  a  guide-book.  It  is  the  record  of  a  thor- 
oughly delightful  trip  to  a  country  which  to  me,  at  least, 
had  all  the  charm  of  the  unknown.  I  have  tried  to 
chronicle  as  graphically  as  lay  within  my  untried  powers  the 
impressions  I  received,  the  gorgeous  pageants  I  saw;  and 
if  my  views  of  Eussian  conditions  seem  rose-coloured  to  some 
of  my  readers,  let  them  remember  that  I  saw  the  country  in 
holiday  attire;  but  let  them  also  remember  that  a  country  of 
unmitigated  gloom,  such  as  others  have  pictured  Eussia  to 
be,  has  never  existed  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  and  never 
can  exist.  My  experiences  were  gathered  among  all  classes 
of  people  and  over  a  large  stretch  of  territory — from  the 
Holy  City  to  Helsingfors  and  beyond.  Wherever  I  went, 
I  found  the  same  splendid  national  qualities,  the  same 
unity  of  character,  ay,  and  the  same  content  with  the 
powers  that  be,  which  make  Eussia  not  merely  a  vast 
geographical  term,  but  a  great  and  mighty  nation. 

If  I  succeed  in  giving  my  readers  but  a  part  of  the 
pleasure  I  experienced,  I  shall  feel  satisfied,  and  consider 
that,  in  some  measure  at  least,  the  debt  is  paid  which  I 
owe  to  my  captivating  Eussian  hosts. 

JOHN  A.  LOGAN,  JR. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  February  15,  1897. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PA.QB 

I. — AT  THE  THRESHOLD   OF   THE  TsAR          ....  1 

II. — AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW 10 

III.— GUESTS  OF  THE  TSAR 26 

IV. — THE   BREAKING    OF    RUSSIAN   BREAD        ....  35 

V. — AS  SEEN   EN  ROUTE 51 

VI. — LOVELY,  LAUGHING  Moscow 64 

VII. — HOW  WE  KEPT   HOUSE   IN  MOSCOW          ....  70 

VIII. — ROUND  ABOUT  THE  cow  PATHS 81 

IX. — RAIN  AND   ETIQUETTE 90 

X. — THEN  THE  TSAR  CAME 97 

XI. — PROCLAIMING  THE  CORONATION 106 

XII.— THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR 113 

XIII. — THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR 130 

XIV. — AN   IMPERIAL    FEAST 138 

XV. — THE  COSSACKS  AND  Li  HUNG  CHANG         .        .        .  149 

XVI.— THE  TSARITSA 159 

XVII. — BREAD  AND  SALT  AND  DANCING 167 

XVIII.— THE  PEOPLE'S  FETE 174 

XIX. — HOW  WE  WASHED   IN  RUSSIA 184 

XX. — THE  GALA   PERFORMANCE  AND  THE   RUSSIAN  STAGE     .  193 

XXI. — THE  CITY  OF  THE  FIRST  MODERN  TSAR       .        .        .  200 

XXII. — RUSSIAN  HORSES 208 

XXIII.— RUSSIAN  RACES 217 

XXIV.— THE  RUSSIAN  CHURCH 231 

XXV.— VILLAGE  LIFE 241 

XXVI. — SLAVIC  LITERATURE 249 

XXVII.— SLAVIC  ART 262 

XXVIII.— A  GLANCE  AT   FINNISH   RUSSIA                                                   ,  268 


Til 


PRESERVATION 
COPY  ADDED 
ORIGINAL  TO  BE 
RETAINED 

1261995 


Chapter  1 . 


AT     THE     THRESHOLD     OF 
THE   TSAK. 

"  STRAVSTVUITE!  " 
said  the  conductor. 

"Go  to  the  devil! ?> 
said  I. 

"Pojaluista  chas! "  said 
the  conductor  with  entreat- 
ing insistence. 

"You  go  to  the  devil!" 
said  I,  half  awake  but 

wholly  in  earnest.  Then  I  sat  up,  spurred  into  sudden 
and  entire  wakefulness,  as  the  sleepiest  man  will  often  be,  by 
a  potent  consciousness  which  "  neither  poppy  nor  mandra- 
gora"  can  ever  quite  drown — a  consciousness  that  some- 
thing novel,  interesting  and  long-waited  for,  has  at  last  hap- 
pened— that  one  of  life's  milestones  has  been  reached. 
We  were  tired.  We  had  gone  "  the  pace  "  in  Paris  and 
Berlin,  and  had  had  to  catch  both  sleep  and  rest  as  best 
we  could  en  voyage;  for  the  Dutch  gentleman  and  the 
Chinese  merchant  prince  who  shared  our  compartment 
had  jabbered  together  in  execrable  French  with  an  in- 
cessancy  that  then,  there,  and  forever  destroyed  my  belief 
in  the  phlegm  and  reticence  of  their  respective  nations. 


gj-V1;:      ^         —JN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Yet  after  one  brief  moment  of  somnolent  impatience  we 
woke  promptly  and  good-naturedly,  nor  needed  to  rub  our 
eyes,  remembering  that  we  must  be  on  the  threshold  of 
Tsarland.  It  was  one  o'clock — 1  A.  M.  It  was  cold  as  the 
shores  of  Lake  Michigan  in  March,  and  the  wind  and  rain 
beat  against  our  window-panes  with  all  the  vigour  but 
none  of  the  good-fellowship  of  a  negro  camp-meeting.  We 
straightened  our  overcoats  and  stretched  our  legs,  and  rose 
to  follow  the  guide,  without  so  much  protest  as  a  frown, 
for  we  had  travelled  far  to  see  Nicholas  II  crown  him- 
self with  the  crown  of  Peter  the  Great,  the  crown  of  all 
the  Russias,  and  we  were  quite  willing  to  stand  about  in 
a  cruelly  cold  custom-house  at  that  hour  of  the  morning, 
while  the  suavest  and  slowest  of  officials  examined  each 
separate  button  of  our  two  wardrobes — since  that  exami- 
nation was  part  and  parcel  of  the  "  open  sesame  "  at  which, 
and  at  which  alone,  the  portals  of  Russia  would  cautiously 
but  courteously  swing  wide. 

The  conductor  was  a  "  common  or  garden "  Russian 
railway  official;  but  the  Kodak  of  my  mind  took  a  fine 
snap-shot  of  him,  and  the  picture  developed  vividly  on  the 
plate  of  my  memory,  for  he  was  the  first  Russian  official 
I  encountered  in  the  exercise  of  his  office.  He  wore  a 
most  gentlemanly  looking  frock  coat  of  good  black  cloth, 
a  pair  of  trousers  tucked  into  high  boots  of  black  Russian 
leather,  and  a  decidedly  smart  affair  in  the  way  of  caps: 
a  turban  of  black  astrachan  topped  with  a  straight  flat 
crown  of  black  cloth,  brightened  up  in  front  with  the 
wheel  and  two  silver  wings  of  Mercury,  which  guards  and 
conductors  all  over  the  Continent  wear.  His  coat  was 
buttoned  diagonally  from  the  top  of  his  left  shoulder  to 
his  waist.  He  wore  a  belt  of  patent  leather  fastened  by  a 
sturdy  silver  buckle.  On  his  left  breast  hung  a  silver  chain 
with  a  whistle  attached,  which  was  tucked  into  the  space 
between  two  of  the  upper  buttons  of  his  coat.  Two  pecul- 
iar united  leather  tubes  hung  from  his  belt.  From  one 
tube  a  little  knob  of  green  wood  projected.  A  similar 
knob,  identical  in  all  but  colour — it  was  red — stuck  out 
of  the  twin  tube.  These  knobs  were  on  the  handles  of  two 


AT  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  THE  TSAE.  3 

flags — one  emerald,  one  ruby — that  were  tightly  furled 
and  thrust  into  the  leather  cases.  One  meant  "  Stop," 
the  other  "  Start."  This  was  the  conductor  of  one  car. 
Had  he  been  a  master  conductor,  the  conductor  of  the 
entire  train,  the  crown  of  his  hat  would  have  been  magenta- 
coloured,  his  clothes  would  have  been  proud  with  magenta 
pipings,  and  his  neck  swathed  in  a  magenta  collar.  In 
Eussia  the  railways  are  under  the  direct  control  and  man- 
agement of  the  Government,  and  every  railway  official  is  a 
Government  official,  a  Government  servant.  Every  train 
is  under  the  charge  of  a  master  conductor,  and  each  car 
has  a  conductor  of  its  own — a  man  who  combines  the 
duties  of  an  English  guard  with  those  of  the  blithe  and 
nimble  darky  porters  of  the  United  States. 

"  Stravstvuite! "  the  conductor  had  said,  which  meant 
"  Good  morning." 

"  Go  to  the  devil! "  I  had  said,  which  meant  "  I  am 
sleepy  and  I  decline  to  get  up." 

"  Pojaluista  chas! "  the  conductor  had  urged,  which 
meant  "  If  you  please,  it  is  one  o'clock." 

"  You  go  to  the  devil! "  I  had  said,  which  meant, 
"  Speak  to  me  again  if  you  dare! "  Knowing  no  Eng- 
lish, and  perceiving  that  I  knew  no  "  Bus,"  he  betook  him- 
self to  French,  and  asked  for  our  passports.  We  produced 
them.  He  pocketed  them.  He  then  beckoned  to  two  or 
three  subordinates,  who  possessed  themselves  of  our  hand 
baggage.  We  hastened  after  them.  I  agreed  to  follow 
our  passports,  and  G.  agreed  to  follow  our  collars  and 
brushes.  But  travelling  man  proposes  and  Eussian  official 
disposes.  I  was  warned  back  with  the  utmost  courtesy, 
but  with  no  uncertainty  of  gesture.  So  we  went  into  the 
custom-house  together — G.  and  the  satchels,  the  rug  straps 
and  I.  The  porters  laid  our  small  traps  on  a  table  in  front 
of  a  patriarchal-looking  Eussian.  He  had  a  splendid 
gleaming  white  beard  quite  two  feet  long,  and  kindly, 
shrewd  brown  eyes.  He  spoke  to  us  in  fluent  French,  and 
looked  through  our  parcels  with  entire  courteousness  and 
entire  thoroughness.  We  were  not  asked  whether  we 
were  or  were  not  carrying  anything  dutiable.  That  im- 


4-  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

pressed  us,  and  impressed  us  pleasantly,  in  contrast  to  the 
rather  insulting  habit  of  our  own  custom-house  officers, 
who  first  make  you  declare  upon  oath  that  your  boxes  con- 
tain nothing  dutiable,  and  then  proceed  to  search  for 
secreted  proof  that  you  have  lied.  After  a  sojourn  abroad, 
this  always  starts  me  back  into  my  own  country  in  a  bit 
of  ill-humour.  When  I  am  asked  to  pledge  my  word  of 
honour  as  to  the  contents  of  my  luggage,  knowing  per- 
fectly well  that  my  word,  my  very  oath,  will  not  be  ac- 
cepted as  final,  I  always  long  to  say,  "You  had  better 
find  out  for  yourself/' 

The  old  Eussian  was  surprisingly  slow.  He  looked 
Oriental,  and,  as  I  overheard  a  pert  English  schoolboy, 
who  had  evidently  lived  in  the  East,  say,  "he  moved 
Oriental."  But  that  was  of  little  or  no  consequence  to  us. 
We  had  two  hours  to  get  through  before  we  might  go  on 
toward  Warsaw,  and  we  were  literally  so  hard  up  for  some- 
thing to  do  that  it  was  a  trifle  better  than  nothing  to 
watch  the  slim  brown  hands  taking  a  thorough  inventory 
of  our  smaller  goods  and  chattels.  The  old  official  seemed 
to  have  an  eye  in  every  finger  tip  and  two  in  each  thumb. 
Nothing  escaped  him.  But  he  crushed  nothing,  and  he  ad- 
dressed us  now  and  then  with  a  word  or  two  of  almost 
deprecatingly  polite  French,  which  made  us  quite  feel 
that  he  was  going  through  an  empty  though  obligatory 
form,  though  both  he  and  we  knew  perfectly  well  that  it  was 
quite  the  contrary.  At  last  he  closed  each  parcel,  buckled 
each  strap,  and  returned  our  keys  with  a  bow  and  a  word 
of  thanks  for  our  goodness  in  having  complied  with  a 
rule  which  we  were  absolutely  powerless  to  evade.  He 
had  altogether  the  manner  of  being  under  an  obligation 
to  us,  and  there  was  something  so  contagious  about  his 
courtesy  that,  on  my  word,  I  felt  rather  a  boor  for  having 
given  him  so  much  trouble,  and  had  half  a  mind  to  apolo- 
gize as  elaborately  as  my  command  of  French  would  per- 
mit. 

We  were  moving  toward  another  room,  where  the 
boxes  and  large  luggage  had  to  be  examined,  when  the  con- 
ductor who  had  disappeared  with  our  passports  accosted 


AT  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  THE  TSAR.  5 

us.  It  was  not  necessary,  he  informed  me,  to  open  my  boxes, 
or  to  have  them  opened,  as  mine  was  a  "  diplomatic " 
passport.  He  added  that  he  had  been  ordered  to  reserve 
a  compartment  for  me  and  for  monsieur  my  friend  in  the 
Warsaw  train,  and  that  in  an  hour,  when  that  train  was 
ready  to  start,  he  would  see  that  our  luggage  was  properly 
placed,  and  have  the  honour  to  guide  us  to  our  compart- 
ment. 

I  had  no  bombs  with  me,  but  I  was  more  than  glad 
that  one  of  my  three  trunks  escaped  examination.  My 
mother,  who  preceded  us  by  a  week  or  more  to  Moscow, 
had  been  betrayed  and  disappointed  by  her  Paris  milliner, 
and  the  contents  of  my  hugest  trunk  consisted  of  a  fine  con- 
glomeration of  uniforms  and  chiffons,  of  waistcoats  and 
satin  trains.  The  Russians — though  a  smileless  race,  in  the 
masses,  at  least — have  a  large  and  Epicurean  sense  of 
humour.  I  was  palpably  travelling  without  a  lady,  and  I 
should  have  felt  sheepishly  like  a  man  dressmaker  had  all 
that  feminine  finery  been  dragged  into  the  semi-light  of 
that  gusty,  ill-lighted  station,  beneath  the  eyes  of  grinning 
moujiks,  supercilious  officials,  and  delighted  fellow-passen- 
gers. 

I  had  a  dull  wait  for  G.  It  was  one  of  the  longest  hours 
I  can  recall,  but  it  was  not  long  enough,  and  it  was  too 
cold  and  too  dark  and  too  early  even  to  attempt  to  ex- 
plore the  old  Polish  city  which  Alexander  I  gave  to  the 
beautiful  Marie  Grudzinska,  and  which  she,  dying,  be- 
queathed to  the  kings  of  Poland,  to  be  theirs  and  their 
heirs'  forever.  Much  less  was  there  time  or  light  or  op- 
portunity to  see  the  one  really  unique  thing  that  the  Alex- 
androvno  of  to-day  can  boast — an  almost  unsurpassed  and 
wonderfully  interesting  deer  park. 

They  were  through  with  G.  at  last;  one  more  proof 
that  everything  has  an  ending — even  a  Russian  custom- 
house examination.  We  had  still  twenty  minutes  to  spend, 
and  we  spent  them  in  the  station  restaurant.  We  had  a  large 
supply  of  bread,  butter,  and  tea,  and  were  charged  some- 
thing that  at  the  time  seemed  to  us  ridiculously  small. 
We  might  have  made  a  substantial  meal  of  many  courses 


6  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

had  we  elected  to  do  so,  for  the  buffet  was  largely  supplied 
with  eatables  and  drinkables.  But  our  appetites  were  not 
fairly  awake  yet,  and  G.  seemed  a  bit  dispirited.  I  learned 
why  afterward.  He  had  bought  a  very  English  suit  of 
clothes  before  leaving  London — checker  boards  were  not 
in  it  with  the  material  of  these  garments,  and  a  rainbow 
in  the  full  flush  of  perfection  was  a  thing  of  gray  shreds 
and  neutral-coloured  patches  if  thrown  into  juxtaposition 
with  these  Bond  Street  trousers.  G.  is  acquisitive.  He 
likes  to  get  into  touch,  en  rapport  as  he  expresses  it,  with 
any  nation  he  visits;  and  he  delights  to  spend  hours  and 
hundreds  in  Kegent  Street  and  the  Eue  de  Kivoli.  He 
was  peculiarly  proud  of  this  remarkable  chef-d'ceuvre  of 
his  London  tailor,  and  felt  distinctly  rasped  at  what  fol- 
lowed when  the  examining  officer  drew  them  forth  and 
spread  them  widely  on  the  examining  table.  The  officer 
had  said  something  in  Eussian  to  a  brother  official,  who 
had  replied  in  the  same  incomprehensible  tongue.  They 
had  been  quite  grave,  and  twisted  the  well-waxed  tips  of 
their  mustaches  almost  sadly.  "But  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I  don't  believe  the  beggars  would  have  laughed  if  they 
had  not  thought  that  it  would  have  been  impolite,"  G. 
grumbled  when  he  told  me  of  it.  A  pretty  Frenchwoman 
who  sat  in  the  next  dentist's  chair — I  mean  who  stood 
near  watching  her  laces  and  gossamers  and  velvets  and 
embroideries  and  exquisite  lingerie  being  tumbled  out  of 
their  chamois-lined,  violet-scented  boxes — had  lifted  up  her 
pencilled  eyebrows  delicately,  pursed  up  her  vivid  red 
lips  daintily,  and  exclaimed,  "  Mon  bon  dieu!  " 

The  tea  they  served  us  was  boiling  hot.  We  had  to 
let  it  cool  somewhat,  but  the  Eussians  drink  it  so — even 
little  mites  who  can  scarcely  lift  the  tall  glasses  in  which 
it  is  served.  It  used  to  distress  me  when  I  thought  of  the 
tender  inner  coats  of  their  throats,  but  they  gulped  it  down 
with  such  evident  relish  and  such  unmistakable  lack  of 
discomfort,  that  I  soon  learned  to  mind  my  own  business, 
my  own  tea-glass,  and  the  scalding  of  my  own  throat. 
The  Eussian  tea  is  very  light  of  colour,  very  fragrant,  and 
very  grateful  to  the  palate.  They  bring  it  to  you  with 


AT  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  THE  TSAR.  7 

slices  of  lemon  floating  in  it,  and  also  bring  you  a  small 
dish  of  lump,  or  rather  stick,  sugar,  to  use  or  not,  as  your 
taste  may  be.  The  Russians  have  two  methods  of  using 
the  sugar  when  they  take  it  with  their  tea.  The  great 
majority  tuck  a  goodly  sized  lump  under  their  tongues, 
and  leave  its  melting  to  the  natural  juices  of  the  mouth 
and  the  trickling  of  the  tea.  They  who  are  elegant  hold 
their  tea-glass  in  one  hand  and  their  sugar-stick  in  the 
other.  They  take  a  nibble  and  then  a  swallow.  But,  how- 
ever they  take  their  tea,  they  all  take  it.  And  like  the 
Siamese,  the  Russians  not  only  drink  tea  out  of  doors,  but 
commonly  stop  in  the  streets  or  public  squares  to  brew 
and  drink  their  favourite  refresher.  In  Siam  it  is  the  noble 
who  is  followed  by  his  servants  carrying  a  stove  and  all 
the  impedimenta  of  tea-making.  At  a  sign  from  him  they 
pause  and  prepare  his  dearly  loved  and  non-intoxicating 
tipple,  while  he  gravely  waits,  gravely  drinks,  and  then 
gravely  walks  on  until  his  next  thirst  halts  him,  when  he 
again  stops  his  cavalcade.  And  this  is  repeated  as  often 
as  he  feels  inclined  for  a  tiny  cupful  of  the  yellow  fluid. 
This  is  so  much  a  custom  that  on  the  streets  of  Bangkok 
no  one  but  the  lately  arrived  "  globe-trotter  "  turns  to  look 
at  it,  and  tea  drinkers  and  tea  makers  are  almost  as  many 
as  moving  pedestrians.  But  in  Russia  it  is  the  plebeian 
and  not  the  patrician  who  is  the  nomadic  open-air  tea 
drinker. 

A  pilgrim — of  such  the  streets  are  always  full — lifts 
from  his  back  the  bulging,  gourd-shaped  bundle  which 
is  all  his  luggage,  and  as  likely  as  not  all  his  earthly  pos- 
sessions, opens  it,  takes  out  his  cheap  samovar,  and  makes 
him  or  herself  a  brimming  glassful  of  sizzling  tea.  A 
peasant  family  abroad  for  a  holiday  will  pause  anywhere 
and  spend  an  hour  or  more  over  their  tea.  The  mother 
makes  it  while  the  father  and  children  watch  with  the 
utmost  interest.  When  it  is  made,  all  sit  down  on  some- 
thing, on  anything — or,  if  needs  be,  as  nearly  on  nothing 
as  is  possible  in  this  world  of  an  omnipotent  and  vacuum- 
abhorring  Nature.  Then  they  all  drink  and  chatter  and 
gaze  at  the  well-dressed  passers-by.  Often  they  regale 
2 


8  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

themselves  on  tea  and  tea  only.  Sometimes  they  munch 
kalatschs  as  they  drink.  Kalatsch  is  the  delicious  national 
bread  of  which  I  for  one  feared  that  I  never  should  get 
enough,  until  I  discovered,  as  I  soon  did,  that  "  eat  much 
and  eat  often "  is  the  first  law  of  all  Russian  life,  save 
that  of  the  most  impecunious.  I  never  heard  how  kalatschs 
were  made,  but,  to  my  thinking,  they  are  the  bread  of 
breads.  They  are  twisted,  Oriental-looking  things  about 
twice  the  size  of  your  fist,  not  altogether  unlike  a  pret- 
zel in  appearance. 

We  were  few,  we  tea  drinkers,  in  the  Alexandrovno 
buffet.  Almost  all  who  broke  their  fast  there  were  Rus- 
sians, and  all  save  the  palpably  poor  Russians  drank  cham- 
pagne. And  the  palpably  poor  were  conspicuous  by  their 
absence.  The  Russian  poor  travel  on  foot,  and  it  was  too 
early  in  the  morning  for  the  station  to  be  infested  by 
mendicant  hangers-about,  if  any  such  there  be  in  Russia. 
If  it  is  true  that  every  one  in  Russia  drinks  tea  and  drinks 
it  often,  it  is  even  truer  that  every  one  in  Russia  who  can 
afford  it  drinks  champagne  and  drinks  it  all  the  time. 
In  a  hotel  or  a  family  mansion  of  any  luxury  the  pop- 
pings  of  the  riotous  cork  outnumber  the  tickings  of  the 
clock.  The  men  who  waited  upon  us  were  dressed  in  the 
picturesque  costume  peculiar  to  all  Russian  waiters  (there 
are  no  barmaids  in  Russia),  but  the  effect  was  rather  chilly 
in  the  cold,  half-dark  station.  Each  wore  a  long  white 
smock,  white  trousers,  slippers,  and  a  red  sash  into  which 
was  tucked  a  Russian-leather  pocketbook  full  of  change. 

From  1  to  3  A.  M.  is  not  a  choice  time  for  sight- 
seeing, nor  a  favourable  hour  for  gaining  new  impressions; 
but  three  things  did  impress  me  indelibly  during  our  two 
hours'  wait  at  that  Russo-Polish  station.  It  would  have 
been  a  very  sleepy  and  a  very  unobservant  traveller  that 
had  failed  to  be  impressed,  first,  with  the  something 
Oriental  about  the  place  and  the  people;  secondly,  with 
the  quantity  and  the  quality  of  the  soldiers  on  duty;  and, 
thirdly  and  most,  by  their  dignified  and  self-contained 
manner.  The  more  I  saw  of  Russia,  the  more  emphasis 
was  given  to  my  first  impression — an  impression  that  in 


Nikolsky  gate  of  the  Kremlin 


AT  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  THE  TSAR.       9 

many  essentials  Russia  was  more  Oriental  than  European. 
I  am,  of  course,  greatly  interested  in  all  soldiers  and  in 
all  things  that  pertain  to  soldiers.  One  corps  of  the 
Russian  army  is  detailed  for  railway  station  service. 
Those  at  Alexandrovno — there  were  an  incredible  number 
of  them — were  a  splendid-looking  lot  of  men.  They 
averaged  well  over  six  feet.  They  wore  coarse,  thick, 
heavy,  blanket-like  overcoats,  well  cut,  and  well  put  on. 
Their  black  astrachan  caps  had  scarlet  crowns  and  smart 
white  pompons.  They  wore  the  regulation  sabre  which  is 
common  to  all  the  Russian  service,  from  the  private  sol- 
dier to  the  Grand  Duke.  It  is  very  heavy.  The  scabbard 
is  a  cheap,  cumbersome-looking  affair  of  leather  and  brass. 
They  wear  their  sabres  edge  upward,  which  is  done,  I 
imagine,  by  no  other  soldiery,  certainly  by  none  of  Europe. 
It  was  cold,  it  was  dark,  it  was  dank,  it  was  shivery,  but 
for  all  that  every  one  seemed  saturated  with  good  humour; 
and  this  was  what  I  saw  and  felt  through  each  hour  of  every 
day  of  the  months  we  spent  in  Russia.  I  do  not  pretend  to 
say  that  Siberia  has  no  existence  save  in  the  imagination 
of  the  lexicographers.  I  do  not  deny  that  there  are  knouts 
in  Russia,  and  that  they  are  sometimes  used.  But  I 
never  saw  one,  never  heard  one  whizzing  through  the 
wintry  air.  The  Russia  I  saw  was  a  rejoicing  and  pros- 
perous Russia.  The  icicles  were  wreathed  with  roses,  the 
air  was  fragrant  with  loyalty  and  softly  musical  with 
blessings.  I  must  write  of  Russia  as  I  saw  it;  and  as  I  saw 
it,  it  was  mostly  admirable.  I  contradict  no  one  whose 
pen  has  preceded  mine;  but  I  can  but  feel  that  many  of 
those  pens  have  exaggerated,  and  that  some  of  them  have 
set  forth  much  in  malice.  The  people  that  I  saw  were  con- 
tented and  brimful  of  rejoicing  at  the  sacred  coronation 
of  their  well-loved  Tsar.  There  is  doubtless  much  to  re- 
gret and  to  mourn  over  in  Russia,  as  there  is  and  will  be 
everywhere  else  until  the  millennium  comes;  but  the  Rus- 
sia that  I  saw  was  a  joyful  Russia. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

AN  HOUK  IN   WAESAW. 

I  HAVE  been  told  that  trains  are  sometimes  missed  in 
Eussia.  On  my  word,  I  don't  see  how  it's  done.  The 
official  on  the  platform  and  the  official  on  the  engine 
whistle  away  at  each  other  with  an  emphasis  and  at  a 
length  that  ought  to  make  it  clear  to  the  thickest-headed 
traveller  within  miles  that  it  behooves  him  to  board  his 
train.  I  never  heard  quite  so  much  fuss  made  over  an 
every-day  occurrence  as  was  made  over  the  starting  out 
of  Alexandrovno  of  that  Warsaw-bound  train. 

True  to  his  promise,  the  conductor  of  our  carriage — 
the  conductor  who  had  roused  us  two  hours  earlier — came 
for  us  when  our  waiting  was  over  and  showed  us  to  the 
very  comfortable  compartment  in  which  we  were  to  travel 
on,  where  we  found  all  our  small  luggage  trimly  stowed 
and  not  a  porter  in  sight  to  tip.  A  few  moments  after 
we  were  seated — we  had  almost  had  time  enough  to  grow 
impatient — the  chief  conductor,  the  conductor  of  the  train, 
strolled  leisurely  across  the  platform,  pulled  out  his  whistle 
and  gave  a  gentle,  deprecating  blow  upon  it.  There  was 
an  almost  insolent  pause,  and  then  a  lazy,  indifferent  an- 
swer was  sounded  from  the  locomotive. 

"  Off  at  last!  "  said  G. 

But  we  were  not  off,  nor  were  we  to  be  off  for  some 
time.  After  a  most  respectable  pause  the  whistle  on  the 
platform  cried  out  in  an  almost  imperative  tone,  "  Are 
you  ready?  "  At  that  the  whistle  in  the  engine  answered, 
"  Yes,  I'm  ready."  Then  there  was  a  long,  sullen  silence. 
The  officials  stood  about  unconcernedly.  Several  pas- 

10 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  H 

sengers  crawled  on  board.  Three  or  four  minutes  passed. 
Then  the  whistle  on  the  platform  cried  out,  "  Are  you 
sure  you're  ready?  " 

"  Yes,  you  fool!  "  screamed  back  the  other  whistle,  "  I 
told  you  so." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  go." 

"  Then  go! " 

But  nothing  went.  After  another  pause  the  con- 
ductor's whistle  grew  truly  eloquent.  The  engine  whistle 
answered  back  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  the  station  re- 
sounded and  reverberated  with  what  sounded  for  all  the 
world  like  insane,  metallic  profanity.  For  now  the  con- 
ductor was  both  blowing  his  whistle  and  pulling  the  rope 
of  a  bell  that  hung  outside  the  station  door.  The  station 
bell  threatened.  The  station  whistle  entreated.  The  en- 
gine whistle  defied.  And  their  noisy  altercation  treated 
us  to  an  exhibition  of  sound  that  might  safely  have  chal- 
lenged the  Chicago  Fire  Department  in  full  flare  to  equal 
it.  After  an  incredible  time  the  engine  gave  a  snort 
of  mingled  rage  and  despair.  The  conductor  dropped 
the  platform-bell  rope,  tucked  his  whistle  into  his 
breast,  walked  very  deliberately  to  his  compartment  at 
the  rear  of  the  train,  got  in,  touched  his  cap  to  some 
brother  officials  on  the  platform,  and  closed  the  door. 
The  engine  gave  a  groan,  then  a  shriek,  and  we  were 
off — off  at  a  pace  that  would  have  disgraced  an  active 
snail. 

It  was  our  last  look  for  months  at  darkness  and  night 
as  we  understood  the  words.  It  never  was  decently  dark 
in  Moscow;  a  couple  of  hours  of  deep  gloaming  was  the 
depth  of  every  night  we  saw  there,  and  in  St.  Petersburg 
there  was  not  even  that  much  of  an  attempt  on  the  part 
of  night  to  array  herself  in  sable  robes. 

Our  train  moved  on  with  annoying  slowness,  but 
easily.  The  road  beds  are  admirable  in  Eussia,  at  least 
so  far  as  our  experience  went,  and  we  travelled  consider- 
ably before  we  left  the  Empire.  The  credit  for  this,  I 
understand,  is  due  to  American  enterprise  and  skill  in 


12  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

the  person  of  Mr.  Winans,  the  pioneer  of  railroad  con- 
struction in  Kussia. 

Our  train  was  cold,  but  otherwise  most  comfortable. 
Like  all  Eussian  trains,  its  carriages  were  very  wide,  and 
we  had  our  compartment  to  ourselves;  not  the  best  way 
to  study  new  Russian  types,  but  for  all  that  a  consum- 
mation devoutly  to  be  wished  for  when  one  is  tired  and 
travelling  by  night.  Our  conductor  quickly  made  up  two 
very  clean  and  cosy  beds  upon  the  seats,  and  we  tucked 
ourselves  in  between  the  sheets  and  rugs  without  detain- 
ing each  other  with  any  elaborate  or  prolonged  good- 
nights.  It  was  almost  seven  in  the  morning  when  we 
were  awakened  and  made  to  understand  that  we  were  at 
Warsaw,  for  we  had  only  travelled  at  an  average  rate  of 
about  twenty  miles  an  hour.  That  is  no  slower  than  most 
Eussian  trains  go.  The  Russians  consider  it  safe,  and 
time  is  absolutely  no  object  to  them.  Eailway  accidents 
are  almost  unheard  of  there. 

After  a  dash  into  the  toilet-room  and  a  hasty  brush 
and  sponge,  we  hurried  out  on  to  the  platform.  No 
one  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  us.  Our  conductor 
brought  us  our  bags  (our  boxes  were  booked  through  to 
Moscow),  touched  his  cap,  said  a  few  words  of  presum- 
able farewell,  which  sounded  civil  but  were  quite  incom- 
prehensible, and  disappeared.  It  was  a  cold,  inhospitable 
station,  and  we  spent  a  heart-breaking  twenty  minutes 
there  trying  to  find  some  man,  woman,  or  child  who  spoke 
or  understood  English,  French,  or  German.  G.  even  tried 
them  with  a  little  Latin.  All  in  vain.  We  were  tired, 
travel-stained,  hungry,  and  in  a  hurry.  At  last  G.,  who 
in  a  dilemma  never  fails  to  propound  some  brilliant  but 
splendidly  defective  scheme,  suggested  our  committing 
some  breach  of  the  law  in  the  hope  of  attracting  attention 
in  some  quarter,  and  being  escorted  to  the  police  station, 
from  which  we  could  probably  communicate  with  the 
American  consul.  We  seriously  began  to  feel  rather  in  a 
fix,  when  at  last  I  spied  a  sign,  "  Wagons-Lits,"  and  we 
executed  a  double  quick  toward  the  little  office  upon 
which  it  was  painted.  The  man  in  charge  spoke  fluent 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  13 

French  and  was  a  brick  into  the  bargain.  "We  intended 
to  push  on  to  Moscow  as  soon  as  we  comfortably  could; 
but  I  knew  the  name  of  a  hotel  at  which  I  wished  to 
breakfast  and  hoped  to  find  others  of  our  party. 

Our  "  Wagons-Lits  "  friend  found  us  a  drosky  (I  dare  say 
it  was  no  less  comfortable  than  the  others  of  its  kind), 
helped  us  into  it,  stowed  our  traps  as  best  he  could  about 
our  persons  and  that  of  our  extraordinary  Jehu,  whom, 
by  the  way,  he  paid  for  us  then  and  there,  that  we  might 
be  neither  in  doubt  nor  overcharged  at  the  end  of  our 
drive,  and,  after  telling  the  man  where  to  take  us  and 
assuring  us  that  we  would  find  French  spoken  at  our 
hotel,  wished  us  a  courteous  Ion-  voyage,  and  crowned 
all  by  almost  declining  the  coin  which  we  felt  he  had 
royally  earned.  It  is  mere  justice  to  record  that  while 
we  were  in  Tsarland  we  never  failed  to  receive  courteous 
treatment,  nor,  when  we  were  able  to  make  ourselves  under- 
stood, did  we  ever  find  any  one  less  than  eager  to  help  us 
in  every  possible  way. 

While  memory  holds  her  throne  I  shall  not  forget 
that,  my  first,  drosky  ride.  A  drosky  is  a  vehicle  by  acci- 
dent. First  and  foremost  it  is  an  instrument  of  torture. 
As  the  latter,  it  is  a  superb  success.  As  the  former,  it  is 
a  sad  failure.  There  are  two  kinds  of  droskies:  one  that 
moves  as  slowly  as  it  is  possible  to  do  without  absolutely 
standing  still;  and  one  that  moves  with  a  celerity  not 
to  be  imagined  by  any  mere  mortal  who  has  never  felt 
it.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  experienced  and  to  be  remembered, 
not  to  be  seen — much  less  to  be  described.  As  a  rule,  the 
slow  droskies  ply  where  roads  are  level,  smooth,  wide,  and 
of  little  traffic;  and  the  rapid  droskies  where  thorough- 
fares are  broken,  lumpy,  rutty,  and  dense  with  carts,  car- 
riages, and  pedestrians.  After  grave  deliberation  I  am 
quite  at  a  loss  to  determine  which  of  the  twain  is  the  more 
terrible,  the  more  distressing  to  mind  and  body.  The 
drosky  of  Eussia  in  no  way  resembles  the  drosky  of  Ger- 
many. It  has  wheels  (usually  of  unequal  sizes)  and  two 
perches,  one  for  the  driver  or  "  isvoschik,"  and  one  for  the 
fare.  The  back  perch  is  usually  both  sideless  and  back- 


14  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

less,  and  is  always  cushioned  with  lumps  of  some  hard  but 
shifty  substance,  covered  with  incredibly  dirty  cloth.  It 
is  an  absolute  feat  to  stick  on,  and  a  positive  misfortune 
to  be  driven  to  this  mode  of  locomotion.  And  yet  the 
streets  of  every  Eussian  city  I  ever  saw  were  thick  with 
droskies.  I  never  could  make  out  why  the  Eussian  people, 
who  are  both  sensible  and  comfort-loving,  supported  such 
an  abominable  institution.  The  Eussian  peasant  is  thick- 
skinned  and  thick-headed,  and  is  magnificently  imper- 
vious to  sensations  of  comfort  or  discomfort;  but  the  Eus- 
sian peasant  has  no  spare  coins  for  cab  fares,  and  the  Eus- 
sians  of  the  upper,  and  even  of  the  middle  and  merchant, 
classes  are  sensitive  and  impressionable  to  a  degree.  I 
give  it  up! 

Our  Warsaw  isvoschik  was  a  picture!  I  doubt  if  he 
had  been  washed  since  his  baptism.  He  belonged  to  a 
class  that  is  said  never  to  wash,  and,  on  my  word,  he  looked 
it.  He  wore  a  long  dressing-gown,  which  G.  said  he  must 
have  borrowed  from  his  mother,  to  wear  while  she  patched 
his  own  clothes.  But  the  guess  was  less  shrewd  than  it 
sounded.  Such  garments  are  worn  by  all  isvoschiks  and 
are  called  kaftans.  It  was  the  cleanest  part  of  our 
charioteer  and  of  his  raiment;  but  it  was  filthy.  For  all 
that  it  was  bright  of  colour  and  made  a  prime  background 
for  the  many  patches  of  faded  stuff  which  were  roughly 
darned  on  to  it.  He  wore  a  low  hat  of  the  "  stove-pipe  " 
order,  something  of  a  cross  between  the  one  commonly 
depicted  on  the  head  of  Uncle  Sam  and  the  one  described 
by  Mr.  Dickens  as  the  head  gear  of  old  Tony  Weller,  very 
fuzzy,  and  so  greasy  that  one  could  not  be  quite  sure 
whether  the  foundation  was  fur  or  cloth.  It  was  far  too 
big  even  for  his  huge,  unkempt  head,  and  fell  down  al- 
most to  his  eyebrows.  Beneath  it  a  tangled  mat  of  tow- 
coloured  hair,  looking  as  if  it  had  been  banged  across  his 
forehead  with  a  dull  penknife,  hung  down  on  all  sides. 
From  under  this  peered  two  dull,  heavy  blue  eyes,  an  in- 
significant nose,  and  the  dirtiest  face  I  ever  saw.  The 
horse — no,  on  second  thought  I  won't  try  to  describe  the 
horse.  It  was  the  hungriest-looking  animal  I  ever  saw,  and 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  15 

I  almost  never  saw  a  drosky  nag  that  I  did  not  long  to 
feed  personally. 

One  beautiful  detail  of  the  isvoschik's  tout  ensemble  I 
must  by  no  means  fail  to  chronicle.  His  perch  is  uncush- 
ioned  until  he  sits  upon  it.  A  plump  pillow  is  stitched 
to  the  back  of  his  coat  at  a  convenient  height.  When  he 
is  standing  it  gives  him  a  peculiarly  weird  appearance 
when  viewed  from  the  back;  and  it  adds  greatly  to  the 
picturesqueness  of  the  ensemble  when  he  is  in  the  active 
exercise  of  his  professional  duties,  for  he  is  not  a  self- 
pamperer,  and  as  often  as  not  contrives  to  so  twist  his 
kaftan  and  wriggle  himself  that  instead  of  using  his  cush- 
ion as  a  seat-softener,  he  wears  it  as  a  dress-improver  or 
a  shoulder-pad.  He  never  knows  how  to  drive,  but  he  is 
a  genial  soul  and  treats  you  like  a  brother,  and  he  de- 
serves great  credit  for  not  breaking  your  neck. 

Ours  was  a  rapid  drosky.  I  was  never  considered  a 
slow  boy,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  I  am  a  peculiarly  timid 
man;  and  I  am,  and  all  my  life  have  been,  accustomed  to 
horses,  and  to  horses  that  knew  how  to  get  over  the  ground. 
But  I  certainly  thought  that  it  was  all  up  with  the  corona- 
tion of  His  Imperial  Majesty  Nicholas  II,  so  far  as  my  illus- 
trious self  was  concerned,  and  that  I  had  come  all  the  way 
to  Warsaw  to  have  my  neck  broken.  G.  did  not  quite  like 
it  either,  though  I  have  seen  him  do  some  fine  riding  at 
steeple-chases.  "  Logan,"  he  jerked  as  he  popped  up  and 
down,  but  not  serenely,  on  the  drosky  seat,  "  can't  y-you 
t-tell  h-h-him  th-th-that  w-we  d-do-an't  w-want  t-to  g-go 
t-t-to  a  fire,  b-b-but  t-t-to  th-the  ho-ho-hotel?  " 

Hearing  G.'s  voice,  the  isvoschik  turned  half  round  as 
to  body,  swinging  one  leg  over  the  back  edge  of  his  back- 
less seat  and  resting  one  mud-incrusted  boot  confidingly  , 
upon  my  new  sole-leather  travelling  case.  He  turned  round 
full  as  to  head  and  let  his  countenance  beam  directly 
upon  us,  and  addressed  us  in  soft  guttural  Eus.  We  won- 
dered whether  he  was  drunk  or  mad,  but  he  was  neither. 
They  are  a  brotherly  lot,  are  the  Muscovite  isvoschiks,  and 
treat  you  with  a  guileless  familiarity  and  a  childlike  inno- 
cent patronage  which  are  calculated  to  disarm  all  but  the 


16  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

superlatively  stern,  and  which  even  such  a  "fare"  finds 
it  difficult  to  stem.  It  is  the  commonest  sight  to  see  the 
isvoschik  with  his  back,  or  at  least  his  side,  to  the  horses, 
chatting  cordially  with  his  wide-eyed,  wide-mouthed  Eng- 
lish or  American  patron,  who  can  by  no  miracle  under- 
stand one  word  of  his  uttering.  He  does  not  throw  down 
the  lines,  to  be  sure,  but  he  ceases  to  bear  upon  them  with 
any  method.  But  as  the  horse  is  accustomed  to  go  as  it 
pleases  at  all  times  and  never  pays  any  heed  to  his  driving, 
this  is  of  no  consequence.  An  isvoschik  does  not  handle 
the  reins.  He  wrists  them;  that  is,  he  twists  the  right 
line  many  times  about  his  right  wrist,  and  the  left  line 
many  times  about  his  left  wrist.  The  lines  are  yards — 
I  had  almost  written  miles — long,  and  of  worsted;  when 
he  wishes  to  urge  on  his  nag  he  thrashes  him  with  the 
long  lengths  of  thong  that  trail  down  from  his  wrists.  If 
this  proves  insufficient,  he  uses  a  cruel  little  whip  which 
he  keeps  fastened  to  his  right  wrist,  or  which  he  snatches 
from  between  his  legs.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  seldom 
beats  his  horse,  but  he  often  threatens  in  gesture,  and  the 
horse,  being  always  without  blinkers,  sees  what  appears 
to  be  about  to  happen  and  accelerates  its  pace. 

On  we  went,  bumping  into  ruts,  dashing  round  corners, 
crashing  into  carts  and  crashing  out  again.  The  isvoschik 
smiled  blandly  and  continued  his  monologue.  G.  stam- 
mered, and  bobbed,  and  groaned,  and  I  didn't  know 
whether  to  laugh  or  to  swear.  The  horse  must  have  under- 
stood the  "  Wagons-Lits  "  man  when  he  directed  the  isvo- 
schik, for  it  brought  its  last  dash  round  a  corner  to  a  sud- 
den halt  that  sent  our  bags  and  bundles  sprawling  on  the 
sidewalk,  threw  G.  on  his  knees,  and  almost  dislocated 
my  neck.  We  had  arrived  at  our  hotel. 

Our  friends  were  not  there,  so  after  we  had  made  our- 
selves fresh  with  soap  and  water,  and  had  breakfasted, 
we  bribed  a  porter  who  spoke  French  to  get  us  a  slow 
drosky,  and  to  tell  the  isvoschik  to  take  us  to  the  St.  Peters- 
burg station.  This  vehicle  was  not  fast.  Ordinarily  one 
would  have  been  galled  by  its  slowness.  But  the  drive 
through  the  old  Polish  capital  was  crowded  with  interest, 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  17 

and  we  were  quite  content  literally  to  creep  through  the 
quaint  streets.  It  had  been  fully  light  when  we  drove  to 
the  hotel,  but  we  had  absolutely  moved  too  rapidly  to  see 
anything,  or  to  perceive  anything  except  a  rushing  kalei- 
doscope of  barbaric  colour.  Now,  as  we  plied  our  slow  way 
onward  through  the  clear,  cool  morning  light  and  the  not 
yet  crowded  streets,  we  were  able  to  take  a  long,  deliberate 
view  of  Warsaw.  Its  chief  characteristic  was  dirt.  It  was 
so  enormously  en  evidence  that,  until  our  eyes  grew  accus- 
tomed to  it,  it  drew  and  held  our  attention  to  the  exclusion 
of  everything  else.  Next  I  was  impressed  by  the  dumb, 
dirty,  uninteresting  faces  of  the  peasant  people.  They 
were  a  hopeless,  unattractive-looking  lot. 

It  is  no  part  of  the  purpose  of  this  volume  to  enter 
into  a  discussion  of  politics  Russian  or  international,  or 
of  Russian  methods  of  government.  I  am  writing  pri- 
marily to  please  myself,  moved  to  do  so  by  an  irresistible 
and  almost  juvenile  impulse  to  make  for  myself,  and  even 
more  for  my  mother  who  was  with  me,  and  for  my  wife 
who  was  detained  in  Paris,  a  permanent  record  of  a  su- 
perbly enjoyable  holiday.  Secondly,  I  am  writing  in  the 
hope  of  pleasing,  or  at  least  interesting,  others;  emboldened 
to  hope  so  because  I  felt  and  feel  that  an  American  who 
had  never  witnessed  any  function  at  all  analogous  to  the 
coronation  festivities  of  Nicholas  II,  seeing  them  with 
fresher  eyes,  might  retain  a  more  vivid  and  detailed  im- 
pression of  them  than  could  a  much  more  gifted  European, 
accustomed  more  or  less  to  such  sights  from  his  birth.  Even 
my  republican  but  much-travelled  mother  was  often  re- 
minded of  some  state  banquet  at  Vienna  or  court  ball 
at  Madrid.  But  I  was  reminded  of  nothing.  I  had  no 
standard  of  experience  with  which  to  compare  anything. 
I  saw  everything  for  the  first  time.  I  went  to  Russia  with 
at  least  a  few  prejudices  against  the  modus  operandi  of 
the  powers  that  in  Russia  be;  I  came  away  without  one. 
And  though — to  repeat  myself — I  emphatically  do  not  in- 
tend to  fill  any  page  of  this  volume  with  things  political 
or  diplomatic,  I  think  it  only  honest  to  say  that  when  I 
first  saw  the  lower  orders  of  Russians  (I  use  the  word 


18  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

widely,  and  mean  Poles  and  half  a  dozen  others  as  well 
as  pure  Eussians)  they  impressed  me  as  a  class  at  present 
quite  incapable  of  self-government,  quite  unfit  to  have 
any  voice  in  law-making  or  law-enforcing,  and  entirely 
unqualified  to  be  governed  by  any  but  the  most  drastic 
methods.  Every  day  spent  in  Russia  deepened  that  im- 
pression, and  I  left  Russia  wholly  convinced  of  its  sound- 
ness. Everything  I  saw  of  the  Russian  officials  of  any 
rank — and  I  saw  a  great  deal — convinced  me  that  they  were 
as  a  class  both  as  kind  and  as  considerate  to  the  subservient 
classes  as  was  at  all  consistent  with  not  only  the  general 
good,  but  even  the  good  of  those  governed  masses. 

I  believe  that  Russia  has  been  widely  misunderstood, 
the  Russian  Government  deeply  slandered,  and  that  we  have 
wasted  a  foolish  lot  of  sympathy  upon  an  undeserving 
criminal  class — a  class  either  spiritually  coarse  or  spiritual- 
ly fanatic  and  insanely  seditious — a  class  no  more  numer- 
ous or  vicious  in  Russia,  according  to  population  and  exist- 
ing conditions,  than  that  of  any  other  civilized  nation. 
It  is  a  curious  fact,  well  worth  the  attention  of  students 
of  social  conditions,  that  during  the  last  fifty  years  as  many 
rulers  of  republics  have  met  death  by  assassination  at  the 
hands  of  so-called  social  reformers  as  rulers  of  monarchies 
and  autocracies.  I  believe  that  Russian  reforms  are  as  rapid 
as  they  can  be  without  doing  more  harm  than  good;  and 
I  believe  that  the  powerful  classes  show  as  much  leniency 
to  the  lower  and  criminal  classes  as  those  classes  either 
deserve  or  appreciate. 

We  passed  many  shops,  but  saw  no  signs,  at  least  none 
printed  or  written.  And  this  we  found  so  throughout  the 
Empire.  A  lettered  sign  is  never  used  except  by  such  shops 
as  are  exclusively  patronized  by  the  rich.  So  few  of  the 
peasant  class,  so  few  of  the  lower  middle  class,  can  read, 
that  an  alphabetical  advertisement  would  be  quite  thrown 
away  upon  them.  So  each  shopkeeper  (with  the  exception 
I  have  indicated)  decorates  the  front  of  his  shop  with  a 
pictorial  representation  of  the  wares  purchasable  within, 
and  he  never  spares  the  paint,  nor  intentionally  spoils  his 
story,  in  the  telling.  He  would  no  more  be  guilty  of  under- 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.,  19 

picturing  his  goods  than  Barnum  the  Great  would  have 
wronged  his  fattest  fat  lady  by  underrating  her  size  on 
the  canvas  portrait  hung  outside  the  fair  one's  tent.  As 
we  crawled  by  the  Warsaw  shops,  absolutely  stopping  more 
than  once,  we  were  greatly  diverted  by  the  discrepancy 
between  the  pictorial  advertisements  and  the  wares  actu- 
ally displayed  in  them.  For  example,  a  display  that  was 
calculated  to  turn  Tiffany  greener  than  any  emerald  was 
painted  outside  a  shop  whose  stock-in-trade  consisted  of 
a  tray  of  brass  and  silver  rings,  another  of  glass  brooches, 
two  rusty  clocks,  and  half  a  dozen  battered  copper 
samovars.  An  assortment  of  cakes  and  confitures  that 
would  have  put  Buzzard  to  the  blush  adorned  the  face  of 
a  shop  whose  sole  commodities  were  a  score  of  black  loaves, 
three  white  ditto,  and  a  keg  of  mouldy  biscuit.  Some- 
thing in  the  way  of  sweetmeats,  which  Fuller  in  his  most 
inspired  moments  could  never  hope  to  rival  in  quantity, 
quality,  or  arrangement,  was  the  frontispiece  of  a  small 
volume  whose  sole  text  consisted  of  half  a  comb  floating 
in  a  tray  of  honey  by  way  of  preface,  half  a  dozen  jars  of 
red  and  purple  lollipops  for  the  subject-matter,  and  a 
broken  dish  of  fly-specked  marsh-mallows  as  an  appendix. 
An  ox  in  the  goriest  death  agony  imaginable  proclaimed 
a  butcher.  A  relative  of  Jonah's  foe  and  a  string  of  pisca- 
torial beauties  that  could  only  have  been  caught  off  the 
shores  of  Ceylon  or  Hawaii,  so  brilliant  and  rainbowy  were 
they  of  hue,  announced  a  fishmonger.  Corsets,  on  and  off, 
more  or  less,  were  among  the  most  prudish  signs  pictured 
on  the  sartorial  marts.  And  the  collection  of  articles 
depicted  on  many  shops  of  household  furniture  and  etcet- 
eras would  have  been  unpardonably  indecent  if  they  had 
not  been  splendidly  funny.  But  G.  and  I  were  unanimous 
in  giving  the  palm  to  the  pictorial  display  of  the  drink- 
ing places.  I  remember  one,  for  instance.  A  truly  bibu- 
lous-looking fellow  was  seated  upon  a  throne  of  vodka 
casks.  He  was  kept  from  sprawling  off  by  two  beautiful, 
gorgeously  attired  maidens,  while  a  third  held  to  his  lips 
a  brimming  bowl  of  champagne.  Around  him  danced  and 
shouted  and  sang  three  boon  companions,  and  on  the 


20  IN  JOYFUL  EUSSIA. 

floor  slept  four  more,  all  very  drunk,  but  all  very,  very 
happy. 

"  Do  you  notice  a  peculiar  smell?  "  I  inquired;  "  some- 
thing queer,  but  not  nasty;  something  you  associate  with 
rather  smart  things?" 

"  By  Jove,  yes!  »  said  G.    "  It's  Russian  leather!  " 

And  Eussian  leather  it  was,  and  we  never  ceased  to 
smell  it  while  we  continued  within  the  realm  of  the  Tsar 
and  inhaled  the  air  of  Russia.  The  national  leather  is  so 
universally  worn  in  the  shape  of  boots,  it  is  used  for 
things  so  multitudinous,  that  in  all  parts  of  the  Empire 
which  are  inhabited  the  entire  atmosphere  is  positively 
and  most  perceptibly  impregnated  with  its  unique  odour. 
Our  isvoschik's  great  boots  were  of  Russian  leather,  and 
so  were  those  of  the  policemen  we  saw  at  every  corner. 
By  the  police  I  mean  the  police  of  the  streets,  who  are 
an  entirely  separate  body  from  the  secret  police,  of  which 
I  shall  have  but  little  to  say,  and  that  little  anon. 

The  police  in  Warsaw  struck  me  as  a  fine,  large,  well- 
behaved  body  of  men,  and  so  they  did  in  Moscow  and  St. 
Petersburg.  Every  American,  or  Englishman,  or  German 
who  had  ever  been  in  Russia,  and  with  whom  I  had  spoken, 
had  assured  me  of  the  contrary,  and  I  have  been  told  by 
those  who  are  well  (or  ill — let  me  amend  it,  and  say  much) 
read  regarding  Russia,  that  the  consensus  of  the  testimony 
of  all  writers  on  Russia  is  that  her  police  are  little,  inactive, 
inefficient,  stupid,  and  vicious.  That  may  have  been  so, 
may  be  so  in  some  places  to-day,  but  it  was  not  so  in  those 
parts  of  Russia  which  I  visited,  at  the  time  I  visited  them. 
We  came  into  contact  with  these  police  seldom  or  never; 
but  we  saw  them,  "  single  spies  "  and  "  whole  battalions  "  ; 
we  saw  them  at  every  street  corner  every  day  we  were  in 
Russia;  and  in  Moscow  during  the  coronation  festivities 
we  saw  regiments  of  them — regiment  after  regiment;  and 
the  men  we  saw  were,  almost  without  exception,  large  and 
businesslike.  They  wore  their  black  trousers  tightly 
tucked  into  immense  Wellington  boots.  All  the  Russians 
have  large  feet.  Thirteen  is  the  size  chiefly  kept  in  stock 
in  a  Moscow  boot-shop.  And  the  average  gorodovoy  wears 


Street  vender  of  sweets  and  prune  cider. 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  21 

sixteens  at  least.  It  is  said  that  Napoleon  chose  his  gen- 
erals by  the  size  of  their  noses.  It  certainly  looked  to 
me  as  if  the  chief  of  the  Russian  police  chose  his  gorodo- 
vies,  or  street  police,  by  the  size  of  their  feet.  The  gorodo- 
voy  wears  a  long  black  kaftan.  The  kaftan  is  the  universal 
Russian  top-coat.  At  first  we  thought  that  it  looked  very 
much  like  a  dressing-gown.  But  we  grew  accustomed 
to  it  soon,  and  then  we  thought  it  a  very  manly,  service- 
able-looking garment.  The  street  police  wear  a  flat-topped 
military  cap,  a  sword  and  a  revolver. 

Each  gorodovoy  has  his  own  dwelling  furnished  him 
by  the  Government.  It  is  built  at  the  corner  of  some  prin- 
cipal street,  and  in  it  he  lives  alone,  sleeping  there,  resting 
there,  breakfasting  there,  lunching  there,  dining  there,  and 
dressing  and  undressing  there — if  he  ever  does  undress 
entirely.  He  often  takes  off  his  outer  garments,  I  know, 
for  I  have  more  than  once  seen  him  hasten  to  some  small 
disturbance  within  his  beat  in  an  indescribable  state  of 
undress  uniform.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  forbidden 
by  law  to  share  the  shelter  of  his  roof  with  any  one;  but 
his  doing  so  is  a  physical  impossibility:  his  house  is  a 
kennel,  and  a  kennel  emphatically  built  for  one. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  gorodovoy  to  keep  peace  and  order 
in  the  streets,  and  to  awake  those  who  fall  asleep  there  if 
they  seem  in  danger — not  of  being  run  over,  but  otherwise. 
The  isvoschik  and  the  drosky  horse  that  will  knock  down 
and  run  over  a  pedestrian  as  a  matter  of  course  are  scrupu- 
lous about  not  disturbing  the  slumber  of  a  street  sleeper. 
The  middle  of  the  busiest  street  is  by  common  consent  the 
appointed  and  chosen  place  of  repose  for  the  peasant 
classes,  and  at  noon  in  summer  time  you  will  see  scores 
of  men,  women,  and  children  with  one  accord  lie  down 
in  the  centre  of  the  roadway  and  go  to  sleep  in  the  most 
businesslike  way.  Then  for  an  hour  or  two  some  of  the 
chief  streets  are  almost  impassable.  No  one  dreams  of 
disturbing  the  seventy  times  seven  sleepers.  All  Russia 
knows  that,  eat  he  ever  so  much,  man  does  not  live  by  bread 
alone,  but  even  more  by  sleep.  But  in  winter  the  street 
police  are  very  busy  arousing  those  who  should  freeze 


22  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

to  death  if  they  slept  on.  An  old  pilgrim  woman,  on  the 
way  to  say  her  prayers,  offer  her  kopecks,  and  tell  her 
every  trouble  to  the  Mother  of  Iberia  or  some  other  saint, 
sits  down  to  rest.  She  dozes  off,  and  soon  the  policeman 
shakes  her  gently,  helps  her  up,  and  starts  her  on.  But 
for  him  she  should  die.  The  streets  of  the  Eussian  cities, 
especially  during  the  carnival  times  and  on  the  frequent 
fete  days,  are  full  of  drunken  men,  nor  freed  from  drunken 
women.  In  the  summer  they  are  left  where  they  fall  to 
sleep  themselves  sober.  In  winter  they  must  be  made  to 
move  on,  or  they  will  sleep  but  to  awake  in  eternity.  Then 
the  gorodovoy's  billet  is  no  sinecure.  A  drunken  man, 
roughly  roused  from  his  first  slumber,  is  never  a  pleasant 
person  to  deal  with,  and  in  Eussia  he  is  superlatively  un- 
pleasant. The  Eussian  peasant  sober,  is  patient,  plodding, 
dumb,  and  docile.  The  Eussian  peasant  mad  with  drink 
(or  with  his  mind  poisoned  by  fanatic  Nihilistic  teachings) 
is  an  uglier  customer  than  any  enraged  wild  beast.  For- 
tunately, vodka  is  as  apt  to  stupefy  as  to  excite  his  heavy 
senses.  But  perhaps  the  sleeper  whom  the  police  have 
most  often  to  waken  is  the  poor  isvoschik.  He  has  sat 
for  hours  in  his  sleigh  waiting  for  the  "  fare  "  that  never 
came.  He  has  fought  with  sleep,  and  sleep  has  conquered. 
He  is  so  muffled  up  in  his  padded  kaftan  and  his  great 
shaggy  cap  that  the  gorodovoy  must  be  very  vigilant  of  eye 
and  mind  to  discover  that  the  Jehu  has  dropped  off  into 
the  land  of  "  Nod,"  and  summon  him  quickly  back  to  the 
Eussia  of  the  living  and  the  awake;  for  in  Eussia,  out  of 
doors  and  in  the  winter,  the  land  of  "  Nod  "  is  the  nar- 
row, abruptly  downward-sloping  bank  of  the  river  Styx. 

The  street  police  have  little  trouble  in  keeping  peace. 
The  Bussians — splendid  fighters  as  they  are — are  anything 
but  a  quarrelsome  people.  I  can  recall  seeing  but  two 
street  fights  during  my  stay  there.  Even  in  the  indescrib- 
able, unimaginable,  dense  crowds  of  the  coronation  cele- 
brations, where  men  and  women  knocked  each  other  down, 
trod  upon  each  other  constantly,  often  tearing  garments 
as  a  sudden  storm  in  Farther  India  rips  into  ribbons  the 
great  leaves  of  the  fan-palms,  no  one  lost  his  temper.  I 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  23 

thought  the  lower  classes  stupid  and  often  coarse,  but  I 
must  write  them  down  good  of  heart  and  saccharine  of 
temper.  I  do  not  doubt  that  there  are  some  supreme 
stupids  among  the  street  police.  It  could  not  be  other- 
wise where  so  large  a  body  is  drawn  from  the  uneducated, 
inexperienced,  and  intellectually  as  well  as  socially  com- 
mon masses.  Mr.  Whishaw,  who  writes  warmly  about 
Russia,  who  liked  the  place  and  the  people  and  has  the 
honesty  to  say  so,  tells  this  amusing  story: 

"  As  an  instance  of  the  thick-headedness  of  that  Jack- 
in-office,  the  town  policeman  or  gorodovoy,  I  may  mention 
the  following  circumstance,  for  the  absolute  and  unvar- 
nished truth  of  which  I  can  vouch:  On  one  occasion,  just 
after  the  ice  had  begun  to  move  (on  the  Neva),  a  disciple 
of  Bacchus  was  suddenly  descried  stumbling  across  the 
unstable  roadway  afforded  by  the  slowly  floating  ice.  He 
had  been  accustomed  to  cross  the  river  at  this  spot,  and 
was  not  in  a  condition  to  observe  the  rude  barricades 
erected  to  inform  would-be  passengers  that  the  crossing 
was  no  longer  safe.  Having  therefore  surmounted  the  ob- 
struction, he  was  now  embarked  upon  his  perilous  journey. 
The  genial  soul  was  not  in  the  least  alarmed,  however, 
doubtless  supposing  that  the  insecurity  of  his  footing  was 
caused  not  by  any  movement  of  the  ground  beneath  his 
feet,  but  by  his  own  deplorable,  though  familiar,  condition. 
He  had  often  experienced  this  sensation  before;  pavements 
frequently  seemed  to  move  beneath  one's  feet;  it  was  noth- 
ing. The  special  Providence  which  is  the  recognised 
friend  of  drunken  men  brought  him  safely,  amid  a  scene 
of  great  excitement,  to  the  point  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river  toward  which  he  had  steered,  and  where  a  large 
crowd,  among  whom  stood  the  gorodovoy  aforementioned, 
had  collected  to  watch  the  sensational  episode.  On  the 
arrival  of  the  traveller,  however,  the  minion  of  the  law 
delivered  himself  of  the  following:  'How  dare  you  cross 
the  river  while  the  ice  is  moving?  Idiot!  don't  you  know 
it  is  forbidden  to  do  so?  I  have  no  authority  to  allow  you 
to  land  here  while  the  ice  is  in  motion;  go  back  and  come 
round  by  the  bridge  as  the  authorities  demand.5  And  back 
3 


24  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

went  the  reveller,  perfectly  contented  to  obey  so  simple 
a  request,  escorted  once  again  by  that  special  Providence 
in  whose  good  offices  he  had  long  since  acquired  by  con- 
stant use  a  vested  interest.  A  sober  man  would  undoubt- 
edly have  been  drowned,  but  our  Bacchanalian  staggered, 
floundered,  and  pounded  along  with  impunity,  and  eventu- 
ally reached  his  original  starting  point  with  impunity  and 
without  the  slightest  suspicion  that  he  had  twice  performed 
a  most  dangerous  feat,  such  as  the  boldest  and  soberest 
might  shrink  to  essay." 

There  is  a  moral  in  everything,  even  in  a  funny  story, 
if  one  will  patiently  distil  it.  The  moral  of  Mr.  Whishaw's 
story,  and  of  a  plethora  of  such,  seems  to  me  that  the 
pristafs,  or  chiefs  of  police,  deserve  great  credit  for  mak- 
ing the  efficient  and  effective  use  they  do  of  the  crude 
and  seemingly  impossible  material  available  for  under- 
lings. There  are  few  street  accidents  in  Eussia,  and  few 
serious  blunders  in  the  management  of  street  traffic  or 
of  crowds. 

After  a  long,  slow  drive  which  we  would  have  found 
unbearably  tedious  had  it  not  been  through  streets  that 
to  us  were  both  strikingly  novel  and  uniquely  interesting, 
we  reached  the  square  of  the  Eoyal  Castle.  We  moved 
slowly  across  the  stones  that  thirty-five  years  ago  were 
slippery  with  the  blood  of  the  Polish  people,  and  had  a 
look  (as  long  a  look  as  we  desired)  at  the  Zamk  which 
was  once  the  royal  Polish  residence,  and  where  the  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies  met.  Where  Poland's  laws  were  once  dis- 
cussed and  made,  there  is  now  a  Eussian  barrack;  and 
the  Governor  of  Warsaw  lives  and  rules  in  the  apartments 
which  once  sheltered  the  kings  of  Poland. 

A  little  farther  on,  a  splendid  iron  bridge,  that  looked 
for  all  the  world  as  if  it  had  been  stolen  some  dark  night 
from  the  East  Eiver,  enabled  us  to  cross  the  wide  and  beau- 
tiful Vistula,  and  we  were  in  the  Praga  suburb,  the  in- 
describably dirty  Jewish  quarter.  There  is  a  large  cattle 
and  horse  market  here,  and  it  needed  not  to  be  seen  to  be 
recognised. 

At  the  station — for  we  got  there  at  last — we  handed  our 


AN  HOUR  IN  WARSAW.  25 

much-booted,  coated,  and  hatted  cabby  his  legal  fare  with 
a  kopeck  or  two  over  for  vodka.  He  took  it,  hat  in  hand, 
and,  contrary  to  what  we  had  been  told  and  therefore  ex- 
pected, made  no  demur  as  to  the  amount.  We  employed 
many  isvoschiks  first  and  last,  and  not  one  ever  demurred 
at  the  price  paid  him.  The  only  time  I  saw  one  question 
the  equity  of  his  "  f are,"  he  was  promptly  knocked  down 
and  got  up  hat  in  hand.  The  typical  isvoschik  is  as  docile 
as  he  is  dirty — he  could  not  be  more  so.  He  is  composed 
of  dirt  and  docility. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

GUESTS  OF  THE  TSAK. 

INSIDE  the  handsome  station  all  was  bustle,  warmth, 
light,  and  brightness.  Eed  carpets  (but  not  for  hoi  polloi), 
noble  palms,  and  proud  little  banners  betokened  that  some 
royal  arrival  or  departure  was  imminent.  I  confess  I  felt 
rather  out  of  it  all — the  Babel  of  foreign  tongues,  the 
rushing  about  of  liveried  servants,  the  dignified  strutting 
of  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  several  different  services, 
and  at  least  twenty  different  and  striking  uniforms.  Whom 
could  we  make  understand  us?  "Where  should  we  buy  our 
tickets?  How  find  our  train?  But  we  were  at  a  loss  only 
for  a  moment.  I  turned,  and  lo!  he  whom  I  shall  always 
call  my  good  angel  of  Warsaw  was  at  my  elbow.  He  of 
the  Wagons-Lits,  who,  earlier  in  the  morning  and  at  the 
other  side  of  Warsaw,  had  rescued  us  from  the  slough  of 
linguistic  despond,  stood  there,  cap  in  hand,  and  smiling 
like  a  long-lost  brother,  having  escorted  a  distinguished 
person  across  the  city,  so  he  informed  us.  The  distin- 
guished person  was  in  his  carriage,  and  he  of  the  Wagons- 
Lits  was  now  altogether  at  our  service.  If  we  would  do 
him  the  distinguished  honour  to  stand  still,  he  would  ascer- 
tain what  arrangements  could  be  made  for  us  in  the  train 
about  to  depart  for  Moscow.  We  stood  still  and  amused 
ourselves  watching  the  thronging  crowds  of  men  and 
women.  It  was  a  holiday  crowd.  All  laughed  and  chatted 
and  crashed  into  each  other,  and  made  way  for  each  other 
with  the  frankest,  happiest,  most  cordial  air  of  good- 
fellowship.  The  upper  ten  were  there  en  masse.  Four 
fifths  of  the  men  were  in  uniform.  A  Russian  officer  is 

26 


GUESTS  OF  THE  TSAK.  27 

never  seen  in  mufti — in  Russia,  at  least.  Some  of  the  ladies 
were  young,  many  of  them  were  old.  Some  were  hand- 
some, others  were  plain.  But  all  were  gowned  in  triumphs 
of  Paris's  greatest  art.  Most  Frenchwomen  dress  well, 
and  many  Americans;  but  the  Russian  gentlewomen  excel 
them  both.  I  never  saw  a  Russian  lady  who  was  not  ex- 
quisitely robed.  The  Dowager  Empress,  H.  I.  M.  Marie 
Feodorovna,  was  for  fifteen  years  conceded  to  be  the  best- 
dressed  woman  in  Europe.  The  lovely  Empress  of  Aus- 
tria excelled  her  in  beauty,  but  no  one  touched  her  in 
frocks.  A  grande  dame  who  was  intimate  with  Worth 
(almost  from  the  first  days  of  his  reign)  told  me  the  fol- 
lowing little  anecdote  and  vouched  for  its  accuracy: 

"  A  client  of  Worth's,  a  lady  of  birth  and  rank  equal, 
or  very  nearly  equal,  to  that  of  her  Russian  Majesty,  once 
charged  the  grand  old  man  of  Paris  with  partiality.  '  Why 
will  you  never  create  for  me  the  chefs-d'oeuvre,  the  sublime 
triumphs  that  you  make  every  week  for  the  Empress  of 
Russia? '  was  her  question. 

" ( Madame,  it  is  impossible.  I  do  my  best  for  every 
one,  but  I  can  do  but  little  alone.  It  is  not  enough  that 
you  pay  me  when  your  robe  is  accomplished  (un  fait  ac- 
compli); it  is  necessary  first  that  you  inspire  me  before 
your  robe  is  begun  here,'  tapping  his  brow  and  then  his 
heart.  'Her  Majesty,  the  Empress  of  the  Russias,  she 
gives  me  the  inspiration  sublime,  divine.  And  when  she 
carries  my  work  she  so  improves  it,  I  do  with  difficulty 
recognise  it.  Bring  to  me  any  woman  in  Europe — queen, 
artiste,  or  bourgeoise — who  can  inspire  me  as  does  Madame 
Her  Majesty,  and  I  will  make  her  confections  while  I  live 
and  charge  her  nothing.' '; 

It  occurred  to  me  when  I  heard  this  that  every  Russian 
mondaine  must  have  something  of  the  same  effect  upon 
her  own  particular  milliner. 

Our  champion  returned  smiling  but  anxious.  Were 
we  going  to  the  coronation? 

We  were. 

He  seemed  a  little  embarrassed.  Who  were  we?  Were 
we  anybody?  That  was  the  purport  of  his  next  question. 


28  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

But  he  did  not  put  it  so.  He  beat  about  the  bush  beauti- 
fully, and  added  that  a  special  train  was  just  starting, 
and  that  perhaps  we  might  catch  it.  It  was  for  Eoyalties 
and  other  distinguished  guests.  "We  hastened  to  assure 
him  that  we  were  no  one  at  all  (nor  were  we  from  his 
probable  point  of  view)  and  that  we  could  not  possibly 
board  the  Eoyal  train.  G.  had  his  ticket.  I  wished  to 
buy  mine;  and  then  we  desired  to  journey  by  the  first 
available  train  for  the  common  run  of  travellers  to  Mos- 
cow. He  was  pitifully  crestfallen;  but  he  clung  to  his 
first  idea  desperately.  Had  either  of  us  a  carte  de  visite,  he 
asked  despairingly.  I  owned  that  I  had.  He  was  a  man 
transformed.  He  thanked  my  distinguished  respectability, 
and  would  my  honourableness  intrust  it  to  him?  I  gave 
it  to  him — it  seemed  brutish  to  damp  his  ardour — but  I 
did  insist  that  we  neither  wished  nor  intended  to  thrust 
ourselves  where  we  did  not  belong.  He  waved  me  and 
my  remark  away  with  a  superb  gesture,  and  rushed  off, 
leaving  us  feeling  most  uncomfortable. 

Our  self-appointed  chaperon  returned  almost  at  once 
— returned  triumphant.  A  Russian  officer  came  with  him — 
a  pleasant,  well-bred  looking  fellow,  who  introduced  him- 
self as  Lieutenant  Gourko.  He  wore  the  bright  blue,  red- 
piped  uniform  of  the  Lancers,  and  an  exceedingly  effective 
helmet  of  black  patent  leather,  surmounted  by  a  mortar- 
board shaped  piece,  from  which  sprang  a  large  snow- 
white,  drooping  aigrette.  He  had  been  detailed,  he  told 
us,  by  the  Master  of  Ceremonies  to  be  in  attendance  during 
the  coronation  period  upon  the  members  of  the  special 
embassy  of  the  United  States  and  the  persons  from  that 
country  upon  the  "List  of  Distinguished  Guests."  He 
added  that  a  special  train  was  about  to  start — their  Royal 

Highnesses were  already  on  board — would 

we  kindly  come  with  him.  I  explained  to  him  that  my  offi- 
cial position  was  really  infinitesimal,  and  that,  moreover, 
I  had  yet  to  get  my  ticket.  He  disallowed  all  this  less 
dramatically,  but  quite  as  emphatically  as  the  Prince  of 
Wagons-Lits  had  done.  I  was  the  guest  of  the  Tsar,  he 
insisted,  and  I  would  have  no  use  for  a  ticket.  So  be- 


GUESTS  OF  THE  TSAR.  29 

tween  them — the  officer  and  him  of  the  Wagons-Lits — they 
bundled  us  into  the  special  train  literally  neck  and  crop, 
bag  and  baggage.  And  as  the  train  pulled  out,  which  it 
did  almost  at  once,  we  left  our  friend  bowing  and  smiling 
on  the  platform,  cap  in  hand  and  hand  on  heart,  a  model 
knight  of  the  honourable  order  of  Wagons-Lits. 

I  have  never  been  the  recipient  of  such  thoughtful 
hospitality — so  thoroughgoing,  so  tireless,  alert,  and  grace- 
fully systematic  as  the  hospitality  which  began  for  ns 
when  we  entered  the  St.  Petersburg  station  at  Warsaw, 
and  that  neither  ended  nor  flagged  until  we  recrossed 
the  frontier  and  passed  out  of  Tsarland.  We  were  in- 
deed guests  of  the  Emperor.  We  were  the  guests  of 
Eussia.  We  were  welcomed  royally;  we  were  entertained 
imperially.  It  seemed  as  if  that  mighty  nation  had  con- 
spired as  one  man  to  do  honour  to  its  master  by  honour- 
ing his  bidden  guests,  and  all  the  strangers  within  Rus- 
sia's gates,  who  had  gathered  together  to  keep  his  sacred 
coronation  fete.  It  was  inconceivable  that  our  faithful 
squire  had  been  prompted  officially  to  look  out  for 
strangers  and  befriend  them.  We  had  fallen  upon  him 
quite  by  accident,  and  had  seized  upon  him  in  our  diffi- 
culty. No;  it  was  the  spirit  of  the  place,  the  people,  the 
hour,  and  he  breathed  it. 

Lieutenant  Gourko  was  the  first  acquaintance  we  made 
on  Russian  soil.  We  soon  grew  to  hold  him  as  one  of  our 
brightest  and  best-liked  friends,  and  as  such  I  shall  always 
remember  him.  The  Americans  going  by  that  train 
chanced  to  be  few,  and  so  we  had  Gourko  quite  to  our- 
selves, which  was  a  stroke  of  good  luck  that  we  soon  learned 
to  appreciate.  He  is  the  son  of  the  great  Field  Marshal 
Gourko,  one  of  the  heroes  of  Plevna,  and,  aside  from 
being  one  of  the  best  of  good  fellows,  interested  me  greatly 
as  a  specimen  of  a  Russian  gentleman,  born  in  the  army 
and  brought  up  in  the  army.  Almost  every  Russian  offi- 
cer is  courtier  as  well  as  soldier.  Gourko  was  both  courtly 
and  frank.  He  said  some  very  pleasant  things — but  said 
them  simply  and  with  apparent  sincerity — about  being 
pleased  that  he  was  temporarily  attached  to  the  United 


30  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

States  Legation.  Indeed,  I  feel  sure  that  the  Eussians 
rather  like  us.  I  saw  several  little  straws  that  indicated 
a  blowing  of  the  wind  in  that  direction. 

This  special  train  was  as  complete  as  it  was  comfort- 
able, and  as  splendid  as  a  special  train  well  could  be,  even 
in  Russia,  the  land  of  glitter  and  colour  and  luxury.  We 
had  a  compartment  entirely  to  ourselves.  There  were 
liveried  servants  eager  to  answer  the  slightest  tintinnabula- 
tion of  our  little  bell.  Cigars  and  cigarettes  were  ours  for 
the  ordering,  as  well  as  everything  liquid  not  technically 
poisonous  that  I  had  ever  heard  of,  and  many  things  that 
I  had  not. 

One  car  in  the  train  was  a  dining-room  and  restaurant. 
We  do  that  sort  of  thing  rather  well  in  America,  but  the 
Coronation  Committee  of  Entertainment  did  it  better.  It 
did  it  inconceivably  well.  Everything  of  the  choicest  was 
served,  and  freer  than  water.  We  didn't  even  get  a  chance 
to  tip  the  waiter. 

Gourko  took  us  in  to  lunch  soon  after  we  left  Warsaw, 
and  we  went  most  willingly,  having  breakfasted  early  and 
lightly. 

It  was  our  first  Russian  meal.  I  thought  it  capital. 
G.  was  beyond  words  disgusted.  Chacun  a  son  gout! 
"  Raw  fish!  Raw  pig!  Fermented  kerosene!  Sweet  cham- 
pagne! Hades! "  exclaimed  he  to  me  when  Lieutenant 
Gourko  left  us  for  a  moment  after  we  had  lunched.  That 
was  what  he  said  every  time  we  ate  in  Russia  veritably 
a  la  Russe.  And  he  says  it  yet  whenever  the  Russian 
cuisine  is  referred  to.  He  was  so  revolted  by  the  invariable 
first  course  of  Zakuska  that  he  could  never  bring  himself 
to  eat,  much  less  enjoy,  any  meal  that  it  preceded. 

The  Russian  Zakuska  corresponds  to  the  Norwegian 
Smorgasbrod  and  to  the  hors  d'oeuvres  of  London  and  Paris; 
but  it  is  a  much  more  elaborate,  varied,  and  substantial 
course  than  either. 

At  a  normal  meal  the  Zakuska  is  served  separately  at 
a  small  side  or  corner  table.  All  partake  of  it  standing, 
helping  themselves  and  each  other,  whetting  their  appe- 
tites for  the  meal  to  follow  with  many  mouthfuls  of  hot, 


GUESTS  OF  THE  TSAR.  31 

savoury  comestibles,  and  generous  tastes  of  strong  fiery 
drinks.  The  appearance  of  the  Zakuska  is  a  matter  of 
much  moment  and  of  serious  consideration,  both  to  the 
careful  Russian  housewife  who  looks  after  her  own  domes- 
tic affairs,  and  to  the  important  maitre  d'hotel  who  is  re- 
sponsible for  the  daily  household  arrangements  of  great 
people.  Table  decorations,  though  by  no  means  overlooked 
or  slighted,  are  not  an  over-important  item  in  every-day 
Russian  life,  but  the  Zakuska  table  is  always  spread  with 
care  and  as  much  positive  presentableness  as  possible.  No 
pains  are  spared  to  excite  the  eye  and  the  nostrils,  that 
they,  reacting  upon  the  palate,  may  excite  it  too.  This 
struck  me  very  forcibly  later,  when  I  came  to  move  about 
among  the  peasants  a  little,  and  to  see  something  of  how 
they  lived.  With  the  poorer  of  them  the  details  of  life 
are  reduced  to  the  utmost  possibility  of  simplicity — pushed 
to  its  very  verge.  But  there  is  another  class,  composed  of 
prosperous  farmers,  petty  tradespeople,  etc.,  who  quaintly 
combine  naked  simplicity  with  more  elaborate  observances 
borrowed  from  the  rich  and  well-bred.  One  of  the  first 
things  with  which  a  Russian  family  concerns  itself  when 
it  emerges  from  the  humblest  into  the  next  social  stage 
is  the  arranging  and  the  serving  of  the  Zakuska.  In  a 
household  where  all  other  food  was  served  and  partaken 
of  in  the  coarsest,  most  primitive  way,  I  have  seen  a  snowy 
towel,  embroidered  in  red  and  green  and  blue,  and  elabo- 
rately fringed,  laid  upon  the  Zakuska  table.  The  table 
itself  was  clean,  with  grotesquely  carved  legs.  The  raw  her- 
rings were  on  a  gaily  painted  plate,  and  the  slices  of  bread 
thickly  spread  with  caviar  were  on  another;  and  three 
small  glasses  of  red  and  yellow  placed  symmetrically 
around  the  green  and  yellow  bowls  of  liquor.  And  all 
this  to  preface  a  dinner  of  Spartan  simplicity — ill-cooked, 
thrown  on  the  board  rather  than  served,  and  gulped  down 
rather  than  eaten. 

Ivan  Ivanovitch  is  a  shock-headed,  untutored  peasant. 
His  dinner  is  of  boiled  buckwheat,  highly  salted  and  sea- 
soned with  garlic.  He  eats  from  a  dirty  wooden  bowl,  and 
with  his  dirty  fingers  seizes  upon  any  portions  that  fall 


32  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

upon  his  dirty  red  shirt,  if  they  are  of  enough  constituency 
to  be  seized  upon;  otherwise  he  seizes  them  with  his  mouth, 
if  they  have  fallen  within  the  possible  reach  of  that  mighty 
but  untidy  member.  But  before  he  dines  he  has  his 
Zakuska,  and  he  takes  it  standing,  as  a  Eussian  should. 
He  eats  a  piece  of  black  bread  dried  in  the  sun  and 
sprinkled  with  vinegar.  With  it  he  devours  a  good-sized 
onion,  well  seasoned  with  cayenne.  Then  he  has  three 
peppery  red  radishes  and  a  cup  of  vodka.  And,  mark 
me,  the  radishes  were  laid  upon  a  saucer  clean  and  pink, 
and  the  liquor  cup  is  en  suite! 

Upon  the  special  train  the  Zakuska  was  of  necessity 
placed  upon  the  tables  upon  which  the  lunch  itself  was 
to  be  served,  and  its  arrangement  was  unelaborate  but 
bountiful.  Down  the  centre  of  the  table  I  counted  ten 
kinds  of  liquor.  About  the  drinkables  were  ranged  the 
eatables.  The  Eussians  take  a  glass  of  one  liquor  and  then 
a  generous  snack  from  one  dish.  They  follow  this  with 
a  glass  of  some  other  liquor,  and  then  a  snack  from  an- 
other dish.  And  so  on  until  they  feel  that  their  appetites 
are  stimulated  up  to  a  pitch  that  will  enable  them  to  do 
justice  to  the  long  and  heavy  meal  which  is  sure  to  follow. 
The  Eussian  liquors  are  fiery  and  potent;  and  at  first  I  did 
not  care  to  toy  with  more  than  two  or  three  of  them  at 
a  time.  The  vodka — the  rival  of  tea  with  the  Eussian 
masses — I  did  not  like.  It  was  rough  and  disagreeable  of 
aroma.  Listofka  I  thought  decidedly  good.  I  liked  the 
flavour,  which  was  unlike  any  I  had  known  before.  It 
was  partly  due,  I  learned,  to  the  steeping  of  young  black 
currant  leaves  in  the  fermenting  spirits.  The  solids  of  the 
Zakuska  I  tasted  one  after  the  other,  led  by  curiosity  to 
run  the  risk  of  spoiling  my  real  meal.  Eadishes,  olives, 
and  smoked  salmon  I  skipped.  I  had  tasted  them  many 
a  time  and  oft.  And  I  also  knew  several  of  the  pickles 
and  all  the  cheeses,  and  passed  them  also  by.  The  raw 
sucking  pig  was  good.  It  doesn't  sound  nice,  but  I  can't 
help  that;  it  was  distinctly  good.  It  was  served  in  very 
small  cubes,  highly  seasoned,  and  laid  on  toast.  The 
smoked  goose  was  aggravatingly  tasty,  for  you  could  not 


GUESTS  OF  THE  TSAR.  33 

manage  much  of  it — at  least  I  couldn't.  The  uncooked 
fish  was  not  bad.  But  it  was  the  fresh  caviar  that  I  revelled 
in;  it  was  spread  on  bread  or  on  toast.  In  either  case  it 
was  put  on  thick,  and  was  sprinkled  with  chopped  onion 
and  lemon.  They  removed  the  Zakuska  and  brought  the 
soup.  It  was  ice-cold  and  delicious,  the  perfection  of  soup 
to  follow  the  h'res  of  the  vodka,  the  delightful  torments 
of  the  cayenned  fish,  and  the  accentuated  caviar. 

It  was  okroshka  they  served  us — the  king  of  potages, 
barring  sterlet  soup.  Okroshka  is  largely  made  of  a  fer- 
mented rye  wine  called  kvas.  There  were  slices  of  cu- 
cumber, shreds  of  fish,  and  scraps  of  meat  floating  in  it. 
It  was  colder  than  any  ice,  and,  as  I  heard  a  small  country- 
man of  mine  remark  some  weeks  later  in  a  St.  Petersburg 
restaurant,  "  it  was  better  than  ice  cream! " 

The  fish  with  which  they  served  us  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  bleached  doughnuts.  It  was  in  fact  patties  of 
sturgeon  and  isinglass,  served  with  an  excellent  sauce — a 
sauce  highly  flavoured  with  the  sturgeon. 

From  that  on  our  luncheon  became  very  cosmopolitan. 
We  might  have  been  eating  in  New  York  or  San  Francisco, 
in  Paris  or  Vienna,  in  London  or  Venice,  except  that  we 
would  most  certainly  have  had  fewer  courses  and  less  of 
each.  We  had  the  invariable  Eussian  salad:  eggs,  beet- 
root, lettuce,  onion,  radishes,  capers,  tomatoes,  celery, 
chicken,  and  salmon,  smothered  in  rich  mayonnaise.  For 
our  jarkoe  or  roast  of  game  they  served  young  blackcock 
with  a  salad  of  salted  cucumber.  Several  of  the  sweets 
were  new  to  me;  but  I  passed  them  by  for  the  favourite 
goody  of  my  Chicago  boyhood,  Nesselrode  pudding. 
Liqueurs  and  coif ee  and  cigarettes  followed  the  lunch,  which 
had  been  of  almost  a  dozen  courses,  and  which  every  one 
but  I  had  washed  down  with  oft-repeated  bumpers  of 
champagne.  Wines  of  every  kind  and  vintage  were  to  be 
had  for  the  asking,  however;  and  when  I  selected  claret 
they  brought  me  something  very  sound  and  with  a  per- 
fect bouquet. 

Verily,  in  Russia  good  digestion  seems  to  wait  on  appe- 
tite. As  a  people,  the  Russians  eat  often,  much,  and  richly; 


34:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

but  I  never  heard  the  word  dyspepsia  spoken  there  save 
by  alien  lips.  The  Eussians  are  as  hospitable  as  the  Arabs 
are;  and  the  stranger  within  their  splendid  gates  who 
would  not  eat  himself  to  death  must  be  firm  of  will  and 
know  how  to  say  gracefully,  "  Hold!  enough!  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   BREAKING   OF   RUSSIAN   BREAD. 

THE  welfare  of  a  people  and  the  character  of  a 
people  depend  largely  upon  what  that  people  eats,  when  it 
eats,  and  how  it  eats.  Many  a  rebellion,  many  a  revolu- 
tion, has  heen  begotten  in  the  kitchen.  Many  a  dynasty 
has  fallen,  many  a  ministry  gone  wrong,  because  of  an 
ill-filled  larder  or  a  badly  advised  breakfast.  The  food  of 
one  generation  forms  a  very  essential  portion  of  the  com- 
ponents parts  of  the  bone,  the  blood,  the  muscle,  and  the 
brain  of  the  next.  Yes,  and  it  determines  in  a  most  ap- 
preciable degree  the  morality  of  the  unborn.  Page  after 
page  of  history,  national  as  well  as  personal,  international 
as  well  as  national,  has  been  written  in  the  cook  house, 
the  dairy,  the  bakery,  and  the  wine  cellar.  More  than 
one  of  the  world's  decisive  battles  have  been  fought  on  no 
broader  a  battlefield  than  a  dinner-table,  with  hors  d'ceuvres 
for  spies,  roast  beef  for  big  cannon,  and  coffee  and  cigar- 
ettes for  the  ambulance  corps.  Many  a  defeat,  many  a 
triumph  of  world:wide  importance,  has  been  born  of,  or 
achieved  by,  a  batterie  de  cuisine. 

Most  of  the  ride  from  Warsaw  to  Moscow  was  devoid 
of  any  interest  but  that  which  was  purely  personal,  and 
I  make  no  apology  for  substituting  for  a  chronicle  of  it 
a  few  notes  upon  the  important  subject  of  what  the  Rus- 
sians eat  and  how  they  eat. 

I  know  no  other  country  where  there  is  so  great  a 
contrast  and  yet  so  distinct  a  kinship  between  the  food 
of  the  rich  and  the  poor  as  there  is  in  Russia.  And  a 
friend  who  is  world-travelled  assures  me  that  there  is  no 

85 


36  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

other  such  country  except  China.  A  Eussian  is  a  Russian,  be 
he  prince  or  serf,  and  in  no  other  respect  is  the  Russian 
strain  more  clearly  marked  than  it  is  gastronomically. 

I  have  written  enough  to  indicate  the  character  of  the 
cherished  national  Zakuska.  Let  me  repeat  that  it  pre- 
cedes every  Russian  repast,  except  where  poverty  has 
swept  the  board  of  every  toothsome  crumb  and  left  it  bare 
of  all  but  the  most  meagre  necessaries. 

There  are  people  in  Russia  so  poor  that  they  never 
have  Zakuska,  perhaps  do  not  even  know  what  it  is. 
Among  the  most  destitute  of  the  people,  who,  in  Russia  as 
elsewhere,  are  usually  the  most  shiftless  also,  there  is  a 
class  only  one  degree,  and  that  a  small  one,  removed  from 
starvation.  The  character  of  the  staple  food  of  this  class 
is  well-nigh  incredible.  It  is  made  of  finely  ground  tree 
bark  mixed  with  a  modicum  of  flour.  They  mix  it  with 
water,  bake  it  if  possible;  if  not,  devour  it  raw.  It  is  their 
substitute  for  bread,  it  is  their  substitute  for  meat,  but  it 
is  not  their  sole  article  of  diet.  They  have  an  accompany- 
ing vegetable.  They  eat  grass.  It  is  their  salad,  their 
hors  d'ceuvre,  their  vegetable,  the  single  other  solid  item 
upon  their  unvaried  bill  of  fare.  One  meal  differs  from 
another,  from  all  others,  only  in  the  "  bread  "  being  raw 
or  cooked,  and  in  the  relative  proportions  of  bread  and  grass. 
The  less  bread  they  have,  the  more  grass  they  must  eat 
and  do  eat.  Water  is  the  only  beverage  they  know. 
Neither  tea  nor  vodka  ever  passes  their  lips.  They  have 
only  tears — always  bitter — and  water — often  brackish — to 
slake  their  misery  and  their  thirst.  But  these  wretched 
creatures  form  an  inexpressibly  small  fraction  of  the  whole 
of  Russia's  immense  population.  And  they  shed  no  tears; 
they  are  thriftless,  shiftless,  and  unconcerned.  If  they 
find  food  to  eat,  they  eat.  If  they  find  no  food,  they  lie 
down  stolidly  and  die.  The  shiftlessness  of  the  lowest 
type  of  Russian  peasant  is  his  chief  characteristic.  In- 
deed, I  may  almost  say  that  it  is  his  only  characteristic; 
but  for  that  he  is  a  man  of  dough — nerveless  and  un- 
malleable.  Shiftlessness  is  his  curse,  and  he  is  the  curse 
of  Russia — one  of  her  greatest  curses.  The  only  good 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  37 

thing  about  him  is  that  there  are  so  few  of  him.  Eebels 
can  be  checked,  reformed  even,  sometimes;  traitors  ban- 
ished or  executed;  but  the  creature  I  have  described  is 
worthless,  hopeless.  He  is  of  no  use  to  his  Tsar,  his  coun- 
try, or  himself.  Nor  can  he  be  made  of  any,  or  his  condi- 
tion be  bettered.  Extermination  is  the  only  fate  he  is  fit 
for — and  since  the  children  must,  indeed,  for  endless  gen- 
erations suffer  for  the  sins  of  the  fathers,  the  only  fate  he 
.merits.  Stay!  He  serves  one  purpose,  a  most  petty  one 
'tis  true,  but  even  so  let  me  give  the  poor  devil  his  due. 
He  serves  excellently  to  point  my  theory  that  as  the  meat 
is,  the  man  is;  that  the  food  a  man  eats  both  shows  what 
he  is  and  largely  determines  what  he  shall  be.  Conceive 
of  a  man — a  man  with  all  his  parts  about  him  and  usable 
— content  to  browse  as  Nebuchadnezzar,  in  his  accursed 
madness,  browsed;  a  man  willing  to  live  upon  powdered 
bark!  It  seems  natural  enough,  does  it  not,  that  he 
grovels  through  all  his  life,  and  never  cares  to  rise?  Verily, 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done  for  him,  nothing  to  be  done 
with  him,  and  I,  for  one,  feel  that  he  should  not  be  al- 
lowed to  perpetuate  his  kind.  His  only  virtue  is  his 
Sobriety,  and  it  is  of  so  negative  a  kind  that  it  really  doesn't 
count.  A  man  who  never  looks  upon  the  meat  when  it  is 
smoking,  juicy,  and  crisp,  who  never  cares  to  break  bread 
that  is  white  and  wholesome,  who  never  longs  for  fruit 
that  is  ripe  and  perfumed,  is  scarcely  to  be  praised  because 
he  never  looks  upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red,  nor  gulps  the 
vodka  when  it  is  fiery.  He  is  an  abomination.  He  is  not 
even  a  feather  worth  the  wearing  of  the  total  abstainers. 

As  I  have  said,  and  as  I  wish  to  emphasize,  these  grass 
eaters  are  in  the  minutest  conceivable  proportion  when 
considered  in  relation  to  the  total  of  the  Tsar's  subjects,  or 
even  in  relation  to  any  other  class  of  Eussians.  But 
the  shiftlessness  which  is  their  only  characteristic  is  un- 
fortunately one  of  the  salient  points  of  a  large  body — an 
enormous  body — of  Eussians,  who  dwell  on  the  next  low- 
est rung  of  the  social  ladder.  If  the  Eussian  masses  could 
be  inoculated  with  the  energy,  the  love  of  beauty  and  com- 
fort, the  appetite  for  active  enjoyment  which  are  so  splen- 


38  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

didly  characteristic  of  the  well-born  Russians,  the  worst 
of  Russia's  civil  battles  would  be  fought  and  won,  half 
of  Russia's  blackest  problems  forever  solved.  But  all  the 
lower  Russian  orders  are  permeated  with  this  deplorable 
spirit  of  laisser  aller.  "  It  will  all  be  ground  up  fine  and 
make  excellent  flour/'  is  an  oft-used  Russian  proverb,  and 
expresses  clearly  the  doggerel  faith  of  the  average  Russian, 
that  the  good  and  evil  of  life,  when  mixed  together  in  the 
mill  of  Time  and  Fate,  will  be  ground  up  for  good,  and 
furnish  a  very  passable  flour  of  life.  "  Man  may  walk, 
but  it  is  God  who  leads  him,"  is  a  saying  often  quoted 
and  firmly  believed  by  Ivan  Ivanovitch.  This  apathy  of 
the  masses  is,  I  firmly  believe,  the  chief  reason  why  we 
find  millions  of  people  living  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion upon  buckwheat  and  sour  cabbage  soup — people  who 
might  live  upon  an  amplitude  of  good  things  if  they  would 
only  mingle  a  decent  amount  of  forethought  and  common 
sense  with  a  manly  proportion  of  industry;  for  Russia  is 
a  land  of  inestimable,  if  hidden  plenty,  and  only  needs 
the  touch  of  a  well-directed  wand  of  industry  to  gush  forth 
with  milk  and  honey. 

At  the  Russian  dinner  or  luncheon  of  affluence,  soup 
is  only  tasted.  In  many  a  meal  of  Russian  poverty  it  is  the 
chief,  and  often  indeed  the  only  course.  The  soups  used 
by  the  rich  are  often  cold,  and  frequently  made  of  fish. 
The  soups  eaten  by  the  poor  are  usually  steaming  and  made 
of  cabbage.  I  remember  a  cold  potage  Botvinia  which  I 
first  tasted  when  I  dined  at  the  "  Yard,"  and  which  greatly 
attracted  me  by  its  peculiarly  beautiful  green  colour.  All 
Russians — rich  and  poor — are  devoted  to  cabbage  soup. 
Made  in  the  kitchens  of  the  elite,  it  is  called  stchi  and  is 
generously  diluted  with  sour  cream.  I  liked  it  immensely. 
It  is  not  unlike  a  piquant  asparagus  bisque.  Made  in  the 
kitchens  of  the  poor,  it  is  an  abomination — a  thing  to 
smell  once  and  fly  from.  To  see  it  is  to  lose  your  relish  for 
all  soups  for  many  a  long  day.  It  is  called  schee  and  is 
made  of  rotten  cabbage.  Its  odour  is  unequalled  by  all  the 
other  vile  smells  on  earth,  and  it  clings  for  weeks  to  the 
room  in  which  it  has  stood  for  only  a  few  moments,  and 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  39 

clings  forever  to  the  garments  and  the  persons  of  those 
who  eat  it  often.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  Russians  lit- 
erally live  upon  it.  The  porter  at  your  gate,  the  policeman 
at  your  corner,  the  soldier  you  meet  on  the  streets,  and  the 
sailor  on  the  Neva,  adore  it  and  consume  incredible  quan- 
tities of  it.  A  Russian  of  the  lower  orders  never  opens  a 
window.  He  likes  foul  air  and  seems  to  thrive  upon  it. 
Imagine  a  little,  air-tight  room  of  ten  by  fourteen  feet — 
a  room  in  which  eight  or  nine  people  have  eaten  schee, 
two  or  three  times  a  day,  and  seven  days  a  week,  and  every 
week  of  the  year.  Remember  that  they  have  been  doing 
this  not  for  one  year  but  for  many,  and  that  their  fathers 
and  their  father's  fathers  did  it  before  them.  Remember 
that  the  one  window  is  never  opened,  and  that  all  through 
the  long  winter  the  temperature  is  kept  at  red  heat.  Need 
I  say  more? 

IJkha,  or  soup  made  of  fish,  is  most  popular.  The 
cheaper  sorts  are  rancid  and  nasty.  That  served  to  the 
well-to-do  is  rich  and  delicious,  but  very  expensive.  Sterlet 
soup  is  the  triumph  of  the  Russian  gourmet.  It  is  better 
than  clam  chowder,  and  not  altogether  unlike  it;  but  it 
is  a  costly  dish.  Sterlet  often  sells  for  five  dollars  (one 
sovereign)  a  pound.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  fish- 
monger, the  epicurean,  and  the  social  economist,  Russia  is 
rich  in  fish.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  piscatorial  sports- 
man she  is  poor.  In  other  words,  there  is  an  abundance 
of  fish  easily  caught  and  cheaply  bought;  there  is  also 
a  variety  of  delicate  and  delicious  fish  for  those  who  are 
particular  of  appetite  and  careless  of  purse;  but  there  are 
almost  no  fish  worthy  an  expert  or  enthusiastic  angler's 
skill.  Most  of  the  fish  that  are  found  in  Great  Britain 
are  found  in  Russia.  There  are  pike,  perch,  bream,  bleak, 
and  roach  in  plenty.  There  are  gudgeon  and  salmon  and 
trout  and  grayling  and  salmon-trout  for  the  million.  And 
for  the  few  there  are  the  four  unique  and  choice  fishes  of 
Russia — the  sterlet,  the  sturgeon,  the  sig,  and  the  soodak. 

Herrings  are  perhaps  the  favourite  of  the  humbler 
classes.  Cooked  herrings  and  vodka  are  often  the  dinner 
— the  sole  dinner — of  thousands  of  families.  And  raw 
4 


40  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

herrings  are  lavishly  used  in  the  Zakuskas  of  rich  and  poor. 
In  the  middle  classes  a  thickly  salted  raw  herring  is  often 
eaten,  and  a  cup  of  vodka  drained,  at  any  point  in  the 
meal  at  which  the  consumer  of  food  feels  that  he  can  "  no 
more."  He  does  not  give  it  up  as  we  of  more  craven 
stomachs  might.  Not  he!  He  spurs  his  inner  man  on 
with  vodka  and  raw  fish.  Sometimes  he  will  do  this  half 
a  score  of  times  at  one  meal.  This  is  pre-eminently  his 
habit  at  "  butter  time "  and  on  feast  days.  A  recent 
traveller  says:  "  While  upon  the  heroic  subject  of  her- 
rings and  vodka,  I  may  mention  that  there  is  to  be  seen 
in  a  certain  restaurant  in  Moscow,  written  in  large  letters 
upon  the  wall  of  the  common  dining-room,  a  legend  of 
which  the  following  is  a  translation:  'I  ate  twelve  her- 
rings to  one  glass  of  vodka.'  This  is  a  more  remarkable 
feat  for  a  Eussian  than  would  at  first  sight  appear,  for 
salted  herrings  are  thirsty  fare,  and  the  Eussian  is  a 
thirsty  soul  even  without  herrings  twelve  to  add  a  dozen 
arguments  to  the  promptings  of  Nature.  The  legend  is 
capped,  however,  by  a  second,  written  just  underneath  the 
first;  it  is  to  the  following  effect:  "The  more  fool  you! 
I  drank  twelve  glasses  of  vodka  to  one  herring! '  A  less 
remarkable  but  more  Eussian  feat." 

I  personally  know  of  one  or  two  exceptions  to  the  gen- 
eral rule  that  in  Eussia  the  angler  will  find  but  tame  sport. 
On  the  marvellous  little  Zaritch  Eiver,  about  three  hours' 
journey  from  St.  Petersburg,  if  I  remember,  the  trout 
are  so  splendid  and  so  abundant  that  at  one  point  the 
owners  of  the  preserve  allow  no  fish  not  weighing  slightly 
over  a  pound  to  be  permanently  taken  from  the  water. 
Two-  and  three-pound  beauties  are  the  average!  Men  who 
have  angled  far  and  wide  assure  me  that  in  all  the  world 
there  is  no  trout  fishing  to  match  that  on  the  Zaritch 
Eiver. 

When  in  Finland  we  had  some  capital  sport  with  sal- 
mon-trout, and  it  is  from  Finland  that  the  St.  Petersburg 
fish  markets  get  their  abundance  of  this  fish.  A  Fin 
peasant  took  charge  of  each  of  us  and  paddled  us  up  and 
down  one  of  the  fish-rich  Finnish  rivers.  The  little  boat 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  41 

in  which  I  sat  (G.'s  was  almost  identical)  was  as  light  as 
our  birch-bark  canoe,  and,  on  my  word,  the  heavy,  dull- 
looking  native  managed  it  as  dexterously,  got  over  the 
water,  rough  or  smooth,  as  quickly  as  did  ever  Indian  skim 
the  blue  and  placid  and  bright  and  churning  waters  of 
the  St.  Lawrence.  It  was  a  lovely  river;  I  forget  its  name, 
but  it  was  not  far  from  the  world-famed  Imatra  Falls,  and 
I  think  tributary  to  the  Imatra  River.  Now  the  banks 
were  wild  with  unkempt,  mutinous  shrubs  and  trees,  now 
they  were  soft  and  seductive  with  delicate,  tender  flowers. 
More  than  once  the  air  was  heavy  with  the  incense-like 
breath  of  Nature's  sweetest  child,  the  lily  of  the  valley. 
For  yard  after  yard,  rod  after  rod,  the  dainty,  exquisite 
things  fringed  the  river's  edge  and  perfumed  the  air  until 
my  senses  ached  from  their  sweetness.  Then  once  more 
the  scene  grew  wilder.  Flowers  trembling  and  fragile, 
and  unknown  to  me,  followed  the  dainty  lilies.  The  ferns 
claimed  all  the  bank,  spreading  it  with  carpets  of  quiver- 
ing, matchless  green.  Then  coarser  ferns  and  hardier 
flowers  and  quarrelsome  grasses  tangled  together  and  waged 
sweet-scented,  gay-coloured  warfare.  Now  and  again  we 
passed  a  tiny  island.  From  one,  where  flowers  of  timid 
pink  and  flowers  of  flaunting  ochre  grew  among  the  ferns, 
a  brood  of  bright  blue  birds  rose  at  our  approach  and 
winged  swiftly  away.  On  several  of  the  small  islands  only 
the  sweet,  frail  white  flowers  grew.  Over  one  of  these  in- 
describably beautiful  islets,  upon  no  inch  of  which  a  hum- 
ming bird  could  have  pressed  his  weight  without  crushing 
one  of  the  delicate  sprays  of  tender  bells,  a  swarm  of  milk- 
white  butterflies  hung.  Over  all  was  the  golden  sunshine, 
under  all  the  emerald  water.  It  seemed  too  beautiful  to  be 
real.  But  it  was  real.  I  saw  it  with  my  waking  eyes;  and, 
rough  and  tough  though  I  am,  I  held  my  breath,  fearful 
that  any  sign  of  my  presence  should  disturb  some  lovely 
thing  of  satin  petal  or  of  velvet  wing.  And  as  our  canoe 
dashed  on  like  some  happy  water  bird,  my  heart  gave  a 
beat  or  two  of  sheer  happiness  that  I  had  seen  so  much 
beauty.  I  own  it  without  a  blush.  I'm  rather  proud  of 
it,  in  fact.  We  dashed  on  into  the  shadow,  and  passed  a 


42  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

tiny  island  so  completely  covered  with  magnificent  bright, 
blue  gentians,  that,  rising  from  the  still,  dark-green  river, 
it  looked  like  some  great  soft  sapphire  set  upon  a  vast  slab 
of  malachite.  On  we  went — on  to  a  tiny  waterfall  and  over 
it.  Yes,  we  did!  I  can't  say  how  much  danger  we  were  in, 
but  it  looked  dangerous.  And  it  felt  dangerous — pain- 
fully so  the  first  time  Ivan  did  it.  But  I  grew  used  to 
it  soon  and  resigned  myself  to  the  guardian  angel  of 
fishermen  and  to  him.  We  caught,  that  day,  the  finest  perch 
I  have  ever  seen  and  some  magnificent  salmon-trout. 
I  will  not  say  how  many  fish  I  got,  nor  what  they  weighed. 
It  is  a  thankless  task  to  tell  of  one's  piscatorial  achieve- 
ments. But  I  assure  the  reader  that  in  the  eyes  of  our 
Finnish  boatman  G.  was  by  no  means  a  hero  when  he 
landed  an  eighteen-pound  salmon-trout,  for  the  river  was 
full  of  such  fish  weighing  twenty  pounds  or  more.  And 
even  on  the  next  day,  while  we  were  fishing  on  a  match- 
lessly lovely  lake,  when  a  monster  pike,  a  perfect  sea- 
horse of  a  fellow,  took  the  bit  between  his  teeth  and,  hook 
in  mouth,  actually  towed  G.  for  several  yards,  neither  of 
our  attendants  evinced  the  least  surprise.  I  may  add 
that  all  our  fishing  was  done — as  it  always  is  in  that  part 
of  the  world — with  spinning  bait. 

Perhaps  the  four  fish  that  of  all  the  known  varieties 
of  finny  life  afford  their  captors  the  least  sport  are  the 
four  that  are  by  all  the  world  conceded  to  be  the  choicest 
that  swim  in  Russian  waters — the  sterlet,  the  sig,  the 
soodak,  and  the  sturgeon.  The  perfection  of  the  sterlet 
is  so  dependent  upon  its  size  and  freshness  that  in  many 
of  the  crack  restaurants  of  Moscow,  and  of  a  few  other 
cities  that  are  near  enough  to  the  Volga,  a  great  marble 
basin  forms  the  centre  of  the  dining-room.  This  basin 
is  three  quarters  filled  with  limpid  water — water  in  which 
great  aquatic  plants  dwell — plants  between  whose  splen- 
did leaves  magnificent  sterlet  dart,  lifting  now  and  again 
their  shapely  heads  to  catch  the  spray  falling  from  the 
fountain  that  with  a  slim,  straight,  and  then  gracefully 
falling  shaft  of  water  punctuates  the  small  pool's  centre. 
The  Russian  gourmet  who  is  old  enough  and  the  Russian 


Lady  in  Russian  dress. 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  43 

gourmet  who  is  young  enough  to  take  a  keen  satisfac- 
tion in  the  display  of  his  gastronomical  judgment  and 
exquisite  taste  goes  to  the  marble  brink  of  this  artificial 
lake  and  nets  his  own  sterlet.  The  waiter  hands  him  a 
net,  fanciful  of  handle  and  silken  of  web.  He  grasps  it, 
looks  critical,  then  wise,  and  thrusts  it  into  the  pool.  If 
he  is  lucky  he  brings  up  a  fish.  If  not,  he  tries  again. 
When  sooner  or  later  he  captures  his  prey,  with  a  gesture 
of  triumph  he  hands  his  net  to  the  attendant  and  hies 
him  to  his  poiage.  Almost  before  his  soup  is  removed 
the  sterlet  is  brought  to  him,  dressed  in  any  way  he  has 
ordered,  and  cooked  to  perfection.  I  noticed  that  most 
of  the  travellers  dining  at  the  Moscow  restaurants  liked 
to  net  their  own  sterlet.  I  did  it  once.  But  it  was  stupid 
sport,  and  after  that  I  always  left  the  selection  of  my  fish 
to  the  waiter,  who  understood  what  I  did  not — which  were 
the  choice  specimens. 

During  the  world-famed  annual  fair  at  Nijni  Nov- 
gorod many  capital  restaurants  are  kept  by  famous  Mos- 
cow caterers,  who  come  to  Nijni  for  the  purpose,  and 
pride  themselves  in  excelling  their  Moscow  standard  of 
excellence.  One  boniface  is  noted  throughout  the  Empire 
for  the  excellence  of  his  fish  and  the  extent  and  condition 
of  his  fish  wells,  as  his  father  was  noted  before  him.  The 
following  little  description  of  a  visit  to  these  wells  is  in- 
teresting, I  think.  It  was  written  over  fifty  years  ago, 
but  it  might  have  been  written  yesterday:  "  The  dinner 
over,  we  sallied  forth.  In  the  middle  of  dinner,  a  portly 
man,  his  face  beaming  with  good  humour,  had  come  up 
to  inquire  of  our  well-doing.  This  was  the  host,  from 
Moscow  for  the  nonce,  a  large  genial  man.  Each  year  he 
made  a  little  fortune  at  Nijni.  Now  he  was  told  that  I 
wished  to  see  where  he  kept  his  sturgeon  and  sterlet  in  the 
river.  These  were  kept  under  lock  and  key  out  on  the 
bridge.  Presently  he  returned  with  the  keys  and  directions, 
and  confided  the  guardians  of  his  treasures  to  Mr.  P.  with 
many  injunctions;  and  so  we  drove  off  to  the  great  bridge. 
Arrived  at  about  a  third  of  the  way  over,  we  got  down 
from  our  drosky,  and  found  stairs  leading  out  to  what  was  a 


44  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

floating  town.  On  what  a  scale  it  was!  Here  were  wooden 
erections  so  extensive  and  so  substantial  that  one  might  sup- 
pose they  had  been  there  for  a  century,  and  were  intended 
to  last  another  century  or  two,  living  rooms  and  covered 
decks,  passages  and  galleries,  small  wells  for  delicate  fish, 
and  large  wells  for  the  royal  sturgeon  and  princely  sterlet. 
In  various  parts  of  the  deck  were  the  sacred  cavities,  the 
wells  fastened  with  massive  iron  locks  and  bars.  One 
of  the  keys  of  the  Moscow  landlord  opened  a  monster  pad- 
lock, and  a  wide,  dark  pool  yawned  beneath  the  spreading 
cover.  A  man  with  bare  legs  and  short  white  linen 
brogues,  with  red  beard  and  bare  neck,  came  with  a  net 
six  feet  square,  in  a  frame  with  a  long  handle,  and  plunged 
it  into  the  pool.  Then  there  was  a  mighty  turmoil  below 
of  huge  monsters  rushing  about  in  the  wide  space,  the 
water  surging  up  all  round,  and  now  a  great  head  half 
appearing,  and  now  a  tail  fin,  the  splendid  fish  lashing 
in  its  descent  the  boiling  water.  At  last  the  skilful  attend- 
ant secured  one  in  the  corner  and  bore  him  to  the  surface — a 
hundred-pounder,  a  sturgeon — a  noble  fellow. 

" '  That's  not  one  of  the  largest/  said  the  man  quietly, 
and  then  he  dipped  the  net,  turned  it  over  with  a  twist 
of  the  wrist,  released  the  fish,  and  struck  out  for  another. 
Then  began  the  turmoil  amid  the  seething  water.  '  That's 
a  good  one,'  he  exclaimed,  as  one  bigger  than  the  last  rose 
to  the  surface,  and  after  a  savage  rush  and  struggle  was 
captured  in  the  bellying  net.  '  That's  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty,'  said  the  man,  ( and  in  good  season  too.' 

"What  a  splendid  fellow  he  was!  bright  and  shin- 
ing and  of  beautiful  proportions.  What  play  that  fish 
would  give  one  on  a  good  line  downstream,  methought! 
It  would  be  an  hour  or  two's  work  to  land  him,  and  here 
he  comes  up  in  his  prison  in  two  turns  of  the  wrist.  He 
seemed  all  too  grand  for  his  narrow  dungeon.  Then  we 
had  another  well  opened,  and  the  delight  of  gourmands, 
the  sterlet,  was  fished  up  in  the  same  way.  Of  all  sizes 
these  were — from  ten  pounds  up  to  fifty.  Mr.  P.  told  us  a 
story  of  a  fine  sturgeon  caught  in  the  Volga  some  years 
back,  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  of  the  Crown  Prince 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  45 

to  Nijni,  and  presented  to  him.  The  Prince  requested 
that  he  might  not  be  killed,  but  turned  back  into  the  river. 
This  was  done,  a  gold  ring  with  an  inscription  being  run 
through  his  gill.  Three  or  four  years  after,  a  peasant 
caught  the  fish  with  the  ring  in  his  gill,  and  the  Governor 
of  Nijni,  hearing  of  the  capture,  sent  off  to  save  the  fish's 
life.  '  The  Prince  had  spared  his  life,  no  one  must  kill 
him/  So  the  Governor  decided,  and  he  gave  the  peasant 
five  hundred  roubles  for  it,  adding  a  second  ring  with  a 
fresh  inscription  in  the  gill  of  the  fish,  and  gave  him  his 
liberty.  '  That  fish,'  said  Mr.  P.,  '  has  a  fair  chance  of 
dying  in  his  bed  of  old  age,  a  rare  case  for  a  sturgeon 
within  reach  of  Nijni.' ': 

One  more  word  in  connection  with  Eussian  fish,  and  I 
am  done.  If  you  ever  go  to  "Russia  and  a  dish  called  soli- 
anka  is  offered  to  you,  as  you  love  your  inner  man,  re- 
fuse it  not.  Its  ingredients  are  vulgar,  but  it  is  divine. 
It  is  created  out  of  fish  and  cabbage.  But  sprinkle  it 
royally  with  cayenne,  and  oh,  ye  gods,  but  it's  good! 

The  Muscovites  eat  buckwheat  as  the  Orientals  eat 
rice.  Indeed,  their  Orientalism  is  in  no  way  more  strongly 
marked  than  in  the  matter  and  the  manner  of  their  eat- 
ing. The  ill-bred  Eussian  is  often  dirty  in  his  eating,  and 
the  ill-bred  Oriental  is  never  that.  But  still,  the  Eussians, 
high  and  low,  have  many  little  table  tricks,  or  rather  tricks 
of  table  manner,  that  remind  one  strangely  of  their  kinship 
with  the  peoples  of  the  East,  and  above  all  with  the  Chinese. 
The  use  of  rice  itself  the  Eussians  understand  as  does 
no  other  people  in  Europe,  and  we  of  America  even  less. 
Buckwheat  porridge,  stewed  buckwheat,  gaieties  of  buck- 
wheat, almost  piquant  with  salt  and  pepper,  and  half  a 
dozen  other  primitive  dishes  of  buckwheat,  are  used  by  the 
common  and  middle-class  people  enormously,  and  often 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  foods.  Eussian  buckwheat 
has  a  threefold  merit:  It  is  sweet  (Ivan  Ivanovitch  has  a 
complete  set  of  big  sweet  teeth),  it  is  nutritious,  and  it  is 
stimulating.  And  it  has  another — a  crowning  virtue — 
it  is  cheap.  In  the  kitchens  of  the  rich  buckwheat  is  usu- 
ally made  into  puddings  or  used  to  stuff  joints  of  meat. 


46  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Mutton  and  beef  crammed  with  buckwheat  and  then  baked 
or  roasted  are  excellent  eating.  And  gurief — the  best  of 
buckwheat  sweets — is  a  pudding  that  I  recall  with  respect 
and  admiration.  At  certain  periods  of  the  year,  at  butter 
time,  and  on  feast  days,  all  Eussia  devours  pancakes  as 
one  man.  Mushrooms  and  cabbage  seemed  to  me  to  be 
their  favourite  vegetables.  The  people  eat  honey  in  in- 
credible quantities.  A  great  shock-headed  fellow  will  take 
a  pound  or  two  of  the  dripping  comb  in  his  greasy,  grimy 
fist,  and  devour  it  at  a  few  bites — and  then  he'll  buy 
more,  if  he  has  kopecks  enough. 

The  Eussians  are  as  fond  of  nuts  as  squirrels  are.  The 
people  munch  them.  The  select  introduce  them  into 
many  of  their  best-liked  and  most-used  dishes.  Nor  must 
I  forget  the  Eussian  gourd.  Thousands  of  peasants  live 
on  it.  Millions  of  the  Tsar's  subjects  eat  it  with  every- 
thing. It  is,  when  ripe,  sometimes  a  pale  green,  sometimes 
a  pale  yellow.  It  tastes  rather  like  a  green  cucumber, 
and  a  little  like  a  mango.  It  is  a  small  gourd,  seldom 
over  four  inches  long.  Endless  acres  of  land  are  devoted 
to  its  culture,  and  tens  of  thousands  of  peasants  (chiefly 
women)  earn  their  livelihood  picking  it,  packing  it,  and 
carrying  it  to  market. 

Eussia  has  a  distinctive  game  population,  most  of  it 
exceedingly  good  to  eat,  much  of  it  good  to  kill.  No 
people  understand  the  cooking  and  the  serving  of  game 
better  than  the  Eussians  do.  They  almost  always  serve 
salads  with  it,  and  nothing  else  except  a  modest  portion 
of  some  condiment  exactly  calculated  to  accentuate  or 
draw  out  the  bird's  flavour.  And  they  know  to  a  nicety 
what  the  ingredients  should  be  of  the  salads  served  with 
each  kind  of  game.  Blackcock,  capercailzie,  woodcock, 
and  snipe  abound  in  Eussia.  Hazel  grouse  are  plentiful 
from  January  to  January.  The  raibchink,  or  tree  par- 
tridge, is  used  beyond  all  other  game.  And  I  thought  it 
the  most  toothsome.  I  ought  perhaps  to  qualify  this  ex- 
pression of  my  opinion  by  saying  that  several  varieties 
of  the  most  highly  prized  of  Eussian  game  I  did  not  taste. 
In  Eussia  "  close  time  "  for  game  begins  in  May  and  ends 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  47 

late  in  July,  and  regarding  many  kinds  of  game  the  law 
is  strictly  enforced  and  implicitly  obeyed.  The  raibchink 
is  chiefly  killed  in  spring,  but  it  is  eaten  always.  It  is 
delicious;  it  wears  well.  Your  palate  never  tires  of  it,  eat 
you  it  ever  so  often.  It  is  so  plentiful  that  in  many  parts 
of  the  Empire  you  can  buy  a  sledge  load  of  it,  frozen,  for 
a  ridiculously  small  sum.  It  is  the  chief  source  of  income 
of  the  sporting  peasants.  Thousands  and  thousands  of 
these  professional  hunters  bring  sledge  after  sledge  load 
of  brown  raibchinks  to  every  large  Russian  town  at  cer- 
tain seasons.  No  one  thinks  of  buying  frozen  raibchink 
by  the  pair  or  by  the  hundred.  Every  well-to-do  house- 
wife invests  in  at  least  one  cart  load.  They  keep  for 
months.  In  many  households  raibchink  is  a  never-omitted 
item  of  the  daily  menu.  In  almost  every  home  of  even 
comparative  comfort  it  is  eaten  constantly  when  other 
game  is  scarce  or  unobtainable.  At  no  Russian  restaurant 
or  hotel  of  even  second-  or  third-class  pretensions  need 
one  ever  hesitate  to  order  tree  partridge.  You  will  get  it, 
for  they  are  never  out  of  it.  They  would  as  soon  think 
of  being  out  of  salt,  or  bread,  or  caviar,  or  vodka.  You 
will  get  it  good,  for  the  toothsome  fellow  is  hard  to  spoil, 
and  the  Russians,  who  are  born  cooks,  excel  in  the  broil- 
ing of  birds  and  the  dressing  of  salads.  When  free,  this 
partridge  affects  the  tallest  of  pine  trees.  It  is  swifter 
than  swift  of  wing,  and  only  expert  sportsmen  ever  bring 
it  down,  unless  they  "pot"  it  as  it  sits.  Every  peasant 
who  makes  a  business  of  killing  this  bird  carries  a  small 
affair  which  is  called  a  "  raibchink  whistle."  When  blown 
upon  by  a  skilled  hunter  it  emits  an  infinitesimal  sound,  very 
shrill  and  high  of  pitch,  but  sweet  and  soft  of  tone.  This 
is  so  excellent  an  imitation  of  the  raibchink's  note  that  it 
deceives  the  birds  themselves.  Those  of  the  tribe  that 
hear  it  wing  toward  it.  The  hunters  hide  behind  the  trees, 
or  in  the  grass  or  undergrowth.  The  birds  perch  upon 
the  tree  tops,  look  eagerly  about  for  their  comrades,  who, 
as  they  think,  have  called  to  them,  and  as  they  sit  they 
are  shot.  Not  very  noble  sport!  Much  of  the  game  shoot- 
ing in  Russia  is  of  a  kind  that  we  would  call  unsports- 


4:8  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

manlike.  If  raibchink  shooting  as  usually  practised  is 
not  noble  sport,  the  bird's  white  flesh  is  exceedingly  noble 
eating,  and  we  should  but  seldom  taste  it,  even  in  the 
heart  of  Russia,  if  it  were  never  bagged  but  in  a  strictly 
sportsmanlike  manner.  The  luring  to  their  death  of  the 
raibchink  by  the  note  of  the  false  bird  is  peculiarly  like, 
almost  identical  with,  a  custom  of  some  tribes  of  our 
North  American  Indians,  who  fashion  a  "  deer  whistle  " 
out  of  the  bark  of  some  young  sapling's  shoot,  and  with 
it  lure  many  a  distant  deer  to  their  gun's  range  and  its 
death.  The  whistle  of  the  Indian  is  a  little  longer  than 
that  of  the  Russian  peasant,  but  both  are  small.  "Ma- 
ma "  softly  calls  the  Indian's  wee  instrument.  The  dis- 
tant deer  hearing  it  thinks  that  some  fawn  is  lost  or  in 
distress,  and  rushes  to  its  cruel  fate  as  the  soft,  feathered 
partridge  rushes  to  its  own.  Treacherous  instruments! 

Snipe  are  to  be  shot  in  Russia  only  during  two  weeks 
each  year,  for  that  is  the  length  of  the  bird's  sojourn  in  the 
Empire  of  the  Tsar.  During  these  two  weeks  the  men 
and  the  boys  who  are  not  out  snipe  shooting  are  either  in 
prison,  in  bed,  or  insane.  This,  again,  is  not  very  brave 
sport,  not  much  for  a  man  to  boast  of.  The  birds  are  too 
easily  shot.  Often  they  are  too  fat  to  fly  quickly. 

There  is  an  abundance  of  good  duck  shooting  in  Rus- 
sia. The  bagging  of  blackcock  is  the  favourite  sport  of 
those  who  hunt  for  pleasure;  but  as  the  capercailzie  is 
the  king  of  all  game  birds,  so  is  its  slaughter  the  chief 
joy  of  the  Muscovite  hunter. 

The  conditions  of  sport  in  Russia  are  so  entirely  differ- 
ent from  sport  as  we  know  it,  that  I  am  tempted  to  linger 
over  the  subject.  But  we  must  get  on  to  Moscow;  and 
I  must  for  the  moment  content  myself  with  saying  that 
blackcock  hunting  is  as  curious  and  interesting  as  caper- 
cailzie hunting  is  great.  The  blackcocks  hold  a  wonder- 
ful tournament  every  spring.  They  parade  and  fight  (or 
pretend  to  fight)  while  the  female  birds  sit  and  watch 
them.  And  it  is  then,  while  doing  doughty  deeds  for  its 
lady  love,  that  the  blackcock  is  oftenest  shot.  The  Rus- 
sian sportsmen  justify  this  slaughter  of  the  cocks  during 


THE  BREAKING  OF  RUSSIAN  BREAD.  49 

the  pairing  and  breeding  season.  The  blackcock  is  a  Don 
Juan  of  a  bird.  It  is  unfaithful  to  its  mate  from  the  first. 
It  never  does  a  stroke  of  work.  Long  before  the  eggs  are 
hatched,  it  is  off.  and  away,  seeking  new  hens  to  woo.  Its 
mate  and  babies  are  every  bit  as  well  off  with  it  dead  as 
alive.  Then,  too,  there  is  in  this  species  a  very  large  pre- 
ponderance of  male  birds.  The  hens  don't  go  round.  Con- 
sequently two  or  more  cocks  frequently  select  the  same 
gray  hen  as  the  object  of  their  ardent  if  temporary  atten- 
tions. Then  there  is  a  fight  as  is  a  fight.  And  the  grand 
finale  is  almost  invariably  a  nestful  of  broken  eggs  and  a 
broken-hearted  hen.  The  preservation  of  this  valuable 
and  useful  species  necessitates  a  constant  thinning  of  the 
male  ranks,  especially  in  hatching  time.  And  the  Rus- 
sian sportsman,  who  is  nothing  if  not  a  casuist,  is  stanch 
in  the  belief  that  the  righteous  end  justifies  the  unsports- 
manlike means. 

Eussia  is  full  of  fruit.  Among  the  upper  classes  it  is 
not  much  used  at  dinner,  except  as  an  ingredient  of  ices 
and  frozen  puddings,  or  as  a  confiture.  But  the  people 
who  can  get  it  eat  it  lavishly,  chiefly  between  meals,  as 
do  the  people  of  the  Orient.  The  ubiquitous,  the  in- 
evitable banana  flaunts  its  long  yellow  coats  at  you 
wherever  you  go  in  Russia.  I  don't  know  where  they  grow, 
or  where  they  all  come  from,  or  where  they  go  to  (for  they 
are  beyond  the  common  people),  but  there  they  are  wher- 
ever you  go,  millions  of  them — yes,  and  billions!  Of  the 
fruits  that  I  ate  in  Russia,  and  was  told  grew  there,  I  on 
the  spur  of  this  moment's  writing  recall  an  endless  variety 
of  grapes,  strawberries,  currants,  apricots,  peaches,  goose- 
berries (as  big  as  plums),  raspberries,  pears,  and  melons. 

In  a  later  chapter  I  shall  have  much  to  say  about  a 
dinner  of  the  Tsar,  and  about  another  that  I  ate  as  his 
guest.  Let  me  close  this  chapter  .with  just  a  word  about 
the  dinner  of  a  Russian  convict.  As  I  have  already  stated, 
it  is  no  part  or  parcel  of  my  purpose  to  go  into  any  burn- 
ing Russian  questions.  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  all 
that  sort  of  thing  has  been  overdone  to  the  verge  of  ab- 
surdity; that  Russian  outrages  have  been  grossly  exag- 


50  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

gerated,  and,  above  all,  that  Eussia  is  quite  capable  of  tak- 
ing care  of  herself  and  hers,  and  of  doing  her  own  re- 
forming. Moreover,  I  have  matter  more  attractive  for  my 
pen.  The  bells  are  ringing,  the  bugles  call,  all  Eussia 
is  glad  and  gay.  And  I  am  en  route  for  the  crowning  of 
the  Tsar.  But  this  is  by  the  way.  I  personally  saw  some- 
thing of  the  food  served  to  the  prisoners  in  three  of  Eus- 
sia's  largest  prisons.  It  was  not  a  Delmoniconian  diet, 
but  it  was  ample,  clean,  and  wholesome.  In  both  quality 
and  quantity  it  was  superior  to  the  food  given  to  the  con- 
victs at  Sing  Sing  and  to  that  served  to  the  prisoners  in 
Holloway.  And — this  is,  I  think,  a  most  significant  fact — 
it  is  at  least  sixty  per  cent  better  than  most  of  the  mis- 
demeanants were  accustomed  to  before  they  became  the 
involuntary  guests  of  the  Government,  as  is  almost  uni- 
versally the  case. 

Among  both  the  plutocracy  and  the  aristocracy  of  Eus- 
sia the  cuisine  is  largely  French.  But  almost  always  there 
is  a  dash  of  Orientalness — a  dish  or  two,  at  least,  that  are 
sharply  Eussian.  No  people  have  more  characteristic 
and  palatable  dishes  of  their  own.  No  people  know  better 
how  to  cook,  serve,  and  enjoy  food  a  la  Frangaise.  Eussia 
is  the  gastronomic  link  between  the  tables  of  the  Orient  and 
of  the  Occident. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AS   SEEN   EN  BOUTE. 

INSIDE  the  car  all  went  merry  as  coronation  bells.  Out- 
side it  was  for  the  most  part  uninteresting  enough  even 
while  the  sun  shone,  as  it  did  most  of  the  time  in  an  opu- 
lent, Oriental  sort  of  way.  When  the  sun  sulked  behind 
a  barricade  of  heavy  clouds,  for  all  the  world  like  some 
peevish,  vacillating  Eastern  potentate,  the  prospect  from 
the  windows  was  bleak  in  the  extreme.  We  passed  through 
forests  that  were  monotonous  and  unimpressive ;  we 
crossed  long,  weary  tracts  of  gray,  sterile-looking  land  like 
a  Kansas  prairie  deserted  by  the  Indians,  unimproved  by 
the  white  settlers,  and  stricken  by  the  blight.  But  now 
and  again  we  steamed  slowly  through  some  interesting 
Russian  villages,  and  twice,  when  we  made  an  unexpected 
and  by  no  means  brief  halt,  we  saw  something  of  village 
life. 

Every  village  in  Russia  is  like  every  other  village  there. 
Let  me  assure  you  of  this  emphatically,  for  it  is  unquali- 
fiedly true.  See  one,  and  you  have  seen  them  all.  I  sus- 
pected this  during  that  first  ride  from  Warsaw  to  Moscow; 
I  knew  it  for  a  surety  a  few  weeks  later  when  we  had 
traversed  Russia,  north,  south,  east,  and  west.  Look  out 
of  the  car  window  with  me,  will  you?  We  are  merely 
crawling  along  and  are  on  the  outskirts  of  a  village.  That 
rickety,  gray,  weather-beaten  signpost  proclaims  it.  The 
sun  is  out,  but  even  so  we  can  only  half  read  the  inscrip- 
tion on  the  post,  " — vtsee  "  !  That  is  the  last  syllable, 
and  all  that  we  can  decipher  of  the  village's  name.  No 
matter;  our  loss  is  small,  as  we  could  by  no  possibility  pro- 
si 


52  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

nounce  it.  Beneath,  the  name  there  is  a  clearer  line,  a  less 
defaced  "  61 "  that  is  plain  enough.  And  Gourko  courte- 
ously translates  the  accompanying  word  of  Eussian.  It 
means  souls — "  61  souls."  Sixty-one  men  and  boys  (the 
women  and  girls  don't  count)  when  the  last  Government 
revision  was  made.  The  taxes  of  each  village  are  assessed 
and  collected  in  a  lump  by  the  Government  when  a  re- 
vision is  made  or  the  census  is  taken.  Every  man  or  male 
child  counts  one,  be  he  a  century  old  or  aged  but  one  hour. 

Their  number  forms  the  basis  of  taxation,  and  the  tax 
then  fixed  remains  unchanged  until  the  date  of  the  next  re- 
vision. The  male  population  may  increase  or  decrease 
greatly;  the  tax  never  fluctuates,  but  remains  a  fixed,  un- 
debatable,  unchanging,  and  unchangeable  sum  for  a  period 
not  often  less  than  ten  years.  If  such  a  thing  should  or 
could  occur  as  the  death  of  every  male  but  one  in  the 
village,  that  one  survivor  would  have  the  pleasure  of  pay- 
ing the  whole  of  the  communal  village  taxes.  Were  this 
one  "  soul "  still  in  his  swaddling  clothes,  what  would 
he  do  then?  It  would  be  rather  embarrassing  to  the  tax- 
collecting  official,  would  it  not?  On  the  other  hand,  the 
allotment  of  land  to  the  different  villagers,  the  portion 
and  situation  given  to  each,  and  the  share  of  the  general 
tax  that  each  must  contribute  to  the  common  fund  on  or 
before  tax  day,  are  all  decided  in  the  village  itself,  and  by 
a  governing  body  elected  by  the  villagers  from  their  own 
number.  And  though  the  sturdy  women  never  figure  as 
souls  on  the  aforementioned  wooden  documents,  they 
are  allowed  to  work  the  land,  to  labour  for  the  common 
good,  and  to  contribute  their  hard-earned  kopecks  to  the 
fund.  The  official  assessment  is  never  disputed,  its  equity 
is  never  questioned,  and  I  never  heard  of  the  figures  on 
the  signpost  being  altered  or  defaced  (save  by  time  and 
weather),  though.  I  often  asked  if  such  an  enormity  ever 
happened.  The  Russian  moujik  is  patient,  law-abiding, 
law-respecting,  except  where  sedition  and  alcohol  have 
done  their  damning  work. 

Having  touched  upon  the  eternal  woman  question, 
let  me  interject  a  passing  word  about  the  women  of  the 


AS  SEEN  EN  ROUTE.  53 

Eussian  peasantry.  We  saw  far  fewer  women  doing  hard 
out-of-door  work  in  Eussia  than  we  did  in  Germany  and 
some  other  continental  countries.  By  "  hard  out-of-door 
work  "  I  mean  such  work  as  we  in  America  associate  with 
men  and  beasts  only;  such  work  that,  should  it  suddenly 
occur  to  us  that  it  was  fitted  for  women's  hands,  we  should 
find  forever  left  undone.  What  a  nation  of  men  left  in 
the  lurch  we  should  be,  indeed,  did  we  depute  to  woman 
any  one  of  a  dozen  occupations  which  are  her  common  lot 
in  Germany  and  Holland!  I  do  not  mean  that  we  saw  no 
women  working  in  the  Eussian  fields;  we  saw  many,  but 
they  had  no  monopoly  of  such  labour.  And  in  Eussia 
you  never  by  any  chance  see  a  woman  and  a  cow  yoked 
together,  a  woman  and  a  dog  hitched  to  the  same  cart — 
sights  common  in  nearly  all  other  European  countries. 
In  one  picture  of  peasants  harvesting  which  I  bought 
there  are  five  men  and  one  woman.  As  far  as  my  observation 
went,  this  is  about  the  proportion  in  which  Eussian  men 
and  women  are  apt  to  do  those  sorts  of  labour  which  we  do 
not  associate  with  women's  hands  at  all. 

The  village  street — no,  that  won't  do;  I  must  hit  upon 
some  other  term,  for  there  is  no  village  street.  The  muddy 
space  which  takes  its  place  stretches  for  a  quarter  or  half 
a  mile,  and  separates  the  fronts  of  one  row  of  tumbledown 
wooden  huts  from  the  fronts  of  another  row  of  tumble- 
down wooden  huts,  and  is  never  by  any  chance  edged  with 
footways.  In  the  village  there  is  usually  one  two-storied 
house  and  (unless  the  souls  be  very  few)  a  church.  All 
the  other  buildings  are  alike.  They  are  low,  one-storied, 
sharp-roofed  structures,  built  of  roughly  hewn,  unpainted 
logs.  In  the  front  of  each  are  three  windows,  narrow  and 
close  together,  with  frames  of  vivid  red  and  violent  green, 
and  above  each  frame  a  crude  cornice  of  redder  red  and 
shrieking  yellow.  The  solid  blinds  are  thrown  open,  and  we 
see  that  their  inner  surfaces  are  daubed  white  and  deco- 
rated with  barbaric  curves  and  lines  of  red,  blue,  and  orange. 
Each  window  is  glazed  with  five  disproportionate  panes. 
The  low  doorways  are  at  the  sides.  The  tone  of  the  houses 
is  mellow  gray,  with  roofs  and  foundations  of  dull,  cold 


54:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

brown.  The  decorated  windows  give  a  flash  touch  of 
colour  that  is  as  characteristic  as  it  is  striking,  and  saves 
the  street  from  being  sad  and  hopeless.  On  the  side  of 
the  house  which  is  unbroken  by  doorway,  porch,  or  window, 
there  often  hangs  a  duga,  for  nearly  every  peasant  owns 
some  sort  of  rough  cart  or  vehicle  for  the  hauling  of  grain, 
fuel,  and  other  necessaries.  The  points  of  the  shafts  of 
every  Eussian  vehicle  are  bound  to  this  duga.  It  is  a  high, 
cumbersome  yoke,  shaped  like  a  gigantic  horseshoe,  and 
rises  two  or  three  feet  above  the  horse's  collar,  to  which 
it  is  attached  near  the  bottom.  It  holds  the  collar  and 
shafts  together  rigidly,  and  a  bearing  rein  is  attached  to 
a  ring  at  its  apex.  It  thus  serves  as  a  combination  of  har- 
ness, tug-loop,  and  over-check. 

Where  there  are  three  horses  driven  abreast  (Troika 
fashion),  as  is  often  the  case  in  Eussia,  the  duga  is  placed 
upon  the  middle  horse.  From  the  duga's  apex  hangs  a 
big,  noisy  bell.  In  some  parts  of  Eussia  two,  three,  or 
even  more  bells  adorn  each  duga.  These  bells  are  heard 
at  a  distance  of  a  mile  or  more.  "  The  use  of  the  bell/' 
writes  an  extensive  Eussian  traveller,  "is  variously  ex- 
plained. Some  say  it  is  in  order  to  frighten  the  wolves 
and  others  that  it  is  to  avoid  collisions  on  the  narrow  forest 
paths.  But  neither  of  these  explanations  is  entirely  satis- 
factory. It  is  used  chiefly  in  summer  when  there  is  no 
danger  of  an  attack  from  wolves;  and  the  number  of  bells 
is  greater  in  the  south,  where  there  are  no  forests.  Per- 
haps the  original  intention  was — I  throw  out  the  hint  for 
the  benefit  of  a  certain  number  of  archaologists — to 
frighten  away  evil  spirits;  and  the  practice  has  been  re- 
tained partly  from  unreasoning  conservatism  and  partly 
with  a  view  to  lessen  chances  of  collision.  As  the  roads  are 
noiselessly  soft,  and  the  drivers  not  always  vigilant,  the 
dangers  of  collision  are  considerably  diminished  by  the 
ceaseless  peal/' 

The  moujik's  duga  is  always  a  highly  coloured  affair. 
Most  often  it  is  a  deep,  bright  crimson,  forming  a  pleasant 
relief  to  the  cold  gray  of  the  wall  upon  which  it  hangs, 
and  a  barbaric  clash  of  colour  with  the  vivid  scarlet  decora- 


AS  SEEN  EN  ROUTE.  55 

tions  of  the  windows.  The  interiors  of  these  houses  are 
as  like  each  other  as  the  exteriors.  At  the  side  of  the  hut, 
two  or  three  steps,  more  or  less  rickety,  lead  to  a  small 
roofed  stoop  or  porch  which  protects  the  entrance.  From 
the  more  or  less  decayed  roof  hangs  a  gipsy-like  earthen 
kettle  having  a  spout  and  thin  handles.  Ivan  Ivanovitch 
is  not  a  monomaniac  on  the  subject  of  personal  cleanliness, 
but  once  in  a  great  while  he,  or  some  member  of  his  family, 
is  moved  to  wash  his  face  or  hands.  This  spirit  of  clean- 
liness is  very  apt  to  move  him,  if  at  all,  as  he  enters  or 
leaves  the  house.  In  that  case  he  gives  the  hanging 
earthen  vessel  a  tip,  tilts  a  little  water  on  to  his  hands, 
rubs  them  together,  smears  them  over  his  face,  wipes  them 
on  the  tails  of  his  red  shirt  (which  is  never  tucked  in),  and 
then  goes  on  his  way  washed  and  rejoicing.  And  this  is 
the  manner  in  which  the  moujik  washes.  To  be  sure,  he 
takes  a  steam  bath  two  or  three  times  a  month,  and  would 
almost  as  soon  do  without  vodka  as  without  this  red-hot 
lavation.  But  upon  close  observation,  I  am  firmly  per- 
suaded that  he  goes  to  the  village  bath-house  for  sensuous 
enjoyment,  and  that  his  shedding  there  of  a  certain  amount 
of  extraneous  matter  is  a  mere  accidental  accompaniment 
to  which  he  himself  is  sublimely  indifferent. 

Pass  through  the  door — it  will  probably  be  shut  to 
keep  the  fresh  air  out,  but  is  never  locked — and  you  are 
in  the  house,  in  its  principal  and,  I  may  say,  only  room. 
There  is  a  shed  or  catch-all  at  the  back,  but  it  is  never 
lived  in  and  need  scarcely  be  counted.  The  room  you  have 
entered  is  twelve  feet  wide  and  sixteen  feet  long.  Such 
rooms  are  occasionally,  but  only  occasionally,  larger  than 
is  the  one  we  have  entered,  but  they  are  very  often  much 
smaller.  There  is  one  piece  of  furniture  in  the  room,  and 
only  one,  unless  you  count  as  furniture  a  bench  and  a 
stove,  both  of  which  are  stationary  and  really  integral 
parts  of  the  house,  having  been  built  with  it  and  for  it. 
The  family  sit  and  sleep  upon  the  bench  and  stove.  They 
eat  off  the  table — a  rough,  rickety,  lopsided  thing,  not 
over  clean,  and  put  together  in  the  most  shiftless  way. 
One  of  its  four  legs  is  gone  and  another  is  charred;  at 
5 


56  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

least  half  of  its  bulk  has  crumbled  away.  The  table  stands 
in  the  angle  of  the  bench  which  extends  along  the  side 
and  back  walls  of  the  room.  By  this  arrangement  the  en- 
tire family  are  able,  with  crowding,  to  sit  near  enough  the 
table  to  reach  each  his  or  her  share  of  the  family  meal.  This 
is  a  consummation  greatly  to  be  wished  for,  as  it  does  away 
with  any  temptation  toward  the  extravagance  of  chairs 
or  stools.  Were  it  not  for  the  bench  and  the  table  and 
their  relative  positions  in  the  room,  Ivan  Ivanovitch  would 
certainly  be  compelled  to  either  purchase  or,  worse  still, 
to  manufacture  chairs  or  stools.  Perish  the  thought! 
Ivan  has  no  kopecks  to  squander  on  superfluities.  He 
needs  every  coin  for  the  purchase  of  vodka  and  herrings 
and  black  bread  and  greasy  soup  ingredients  and  red  shirts, 
and  other  stern  necessities.  But  for  all  that,  Ivan  Ivano- 
vitch must  sit  down  (and  therefore  must  have  something 
to  sit  down  upon),  and  so  must  all  the  little  Ivan  Ivano- 
vitches,  and  Mrs.  Ivan  too,  especially  at  mealtimes.  He 
is  a  single-minded  man,  is  Ivan  Ivanovitch,  and  he  likes 
to  eat  with  an  undiverted  mind.  He  has  no  mental  or 
physical  energy  to  spare  from  the  all-important  rite,  and 
it  would  entail  some  exertion  both  of  mind  and  body  did 
Ivan  Ivanovitch  stand  during  his  meal.  This  is  why  the 
table  is  commensurate  in  size  with  that  of  the  family.  In 
the  living  room  of  almost  every  Eussian  peasant  you  will 
find  a  table  large  enough  to  allow  the  entire  family  to 
sit  at  two  of  its  four  sides.  The  bench  is  at  a  convenient 
distance  from  the  ground.  It  is  a  foot,  or  at  the  most  two 
feet,  wide — more  often  the  former.  From  these  dimen- 
sions the  reader  will  without  difficulty  infer  that  with 
the  broader  members  of  the  family  the  stove  is  usually 
the  more  popular  bed.  As  a  rule,  however,  the  Ivan 
Ivanovitches  are  not  broad  except  in  the  matter  of  clothes. 
But,  though  niggardly  narrow,  the  bench  is  always  gener- 
ously substantial.  Sometimes  it  is  unpainted  and  almost 
unplaned,  but  often  it  is  stained,  or  coloured  a  gorgeous 
red,  a  brilliant  yellow,  a  flashing  green,  or  a  royal  blue. 
It  is  this  love  of  colour  and  indifference  to  dilapidation 
(both  traits  are  universal)  that  largely  make  every  Eussian 


AS  SEEN  EN  ROUTE.  57 

interior  picturesque,,  even  the  poorest.  Somehow,  Ivan 
contrives  to  make  of  his  surroundings  one  barbaric  blaze 
of  shrieking,  wrangling  colour.  Then  time  and  decay 
creep  in,  and,  backed  by  Ivan's  laziness,  his  deep-rooted, 
insuperable  laissez  faire,  touch  all  with  quaint  deft  fingers, 
and  soften  the  whole  into  a  thing  of  real  artistic  value 
and  genuine  beauty. 

In  the  corner  of  the  room  diagonally  opposite  the  table 
stands  the  stove.  This  is  the  most  important  thing  in  the 
house,  not  excepting  the  ikon.  Another  ikon  could  be 
purchased  for  a  few  kopecks;  another  stove  would  cost 
many,  many  roubles.  Mr.  Whishaw,  to  whom  I  owe  a  debt 
of  deep  gratitude  for  his  delightful  book  on  Eussia,  and  who 
must  be  a  jolly  good  fellow  as  well  as  a  charming  writer, 
describes  this  ubiquitous  and  all-important  stove  so  pho- 
tographically that  I  will  borrow  his  words  rather  than  use 
less  adequate  ones  of  my  own. 

It  is,  he  tells  us,  a  huge  brick  structure  reaching  almost 
to  the  ceiling,  five  feet  in  breadth  and  four  feet  deep,  and 
"having  a  lower  portion  jutting  out  from  the  side  to  a 
length  of  six  feet  or  so.  This  branch  establishment  is 
used  by  the  family  to  sleep  upon,  and  a  nice  warm  bed  it 
makes.  As  for  the  stove  itself,  a  description  of  its  work- 
ing may  be  of  interest  to  the  reader.  The  door  of  the 
stove  is  a  foot  or  so  from  the  ground,  and  opens  into  a 
huge  empty  cavern  formed  by  the  whole  of  the  inside  of  the 
stove.  Into  this  logs  of  wood  are  thrust  in  quantities 
and  are  ignited.  This  is  only  the  beginning,  and  the  heat 
of  the  wood  while  burning  is  a  mere  trifle.  "When  the 
logs  are  reduced  to  red  embers  the  door  of  the  stove  is  shut 
up  tight  and  the  chimney  securely  closed.  By  this  means 
all  the  heat  is  kept  in  the  stove,  which  soon  becomes  a 
veritable  scorcher,  and  retains  its  heat  for  nearly  twenty- 
four  hours.  But  woe  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  house  if 
the  chimney  be  closed  before  the  wood  shall  have  properly 
consumed,  for  speedy  suffocation  is  their  certain  fate — 
death  if  they  happen  to  be  asleep,  terrible  nausea  and  sick- 
ness if  awake  and  able  to  whisk  off  the  iron  covering  which 
closes  the  chimney  in  time  to  save  their  lives.  I  have  spoken 


58  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

to  an  English  gentleman  who  once  nearly  fell  a  victim 
to  suffocation  through  the  carelessness  of  a  Russian  servant. 
He  was  passing  the  night  at  a  shooting  box  near  St.  Peters- 
burg, and,  the  cold  being  intense,  had  instructed  the 
keeper  on  retiring  to  enter  his  room  at  six  in  the  morning 
and  relight  the  stove  in  case  it  should  have  cooled  down 
by  that  time.  The  keeper  obeyed  these  instructions  to 
the  letter,  but  closed  the  chimney  before  the  wood  had 
been  sufficiently  reduced.  At  half-past  seven  my  friend 
was  awakened  by  the  most  violent  headache  he  had  ever 
experienced,  accompanied  by  terrible  sickness.  He  barely 
had  strength  to  crawl  out  of  bed  and  stagger  into  the  fresh 
air,  thus  saving  his  life,  when  he  fell  insensible  into  the 
snow.  There  he  was  found  shortly  afterward,  half  frozen 
and  very  ill,  but  alive  enough  to  make  remarks  to  that 
offending  keeper  which  were  almost  sufficiently  strong  to 
thaw  the  snow  in  which  he  found  himself  outstretched." 

The  small  children  crawl  down  from  the  top  of  the  stove 
as  we  enter  Ivan's  room  and  stand  staring  at  us.  On  the 
table  there  is  a  samovar,  or  Russian  urn,  hissing  very  com- 
fortably, and  Mrs.  Ivan  smiles  and  bows  over  it.  She 
has  been  cutting  hunks  from  a  large  round  loaf  of  black 
bread,  for  this  is  dinner  time.  There  is  also  a  smoked 
herring  lying  on  the  table,  half  wrapped  in  a  truly  hor- 
rible scrap  of  newspaper.  Probably  Ivan  will  get  the 
whole  of  this  dainty  morsel,  for  he  is  a  "  soul "  and  must 
be  fed;  black  bread  will  do  well  enough  for  the  women, 
who  have  no  souls  to  support.  No,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Ivan, 
we  won't  take  any  tea,  though  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to 
offer  it.  So  far  as  I  can  see  you  only  possess  one  tumbler, 
and  that  a  remarkably  unclean  one.  What  would  the 
"  soul "  do  if  we  used  his  tumbler?  You  suggest,  reader, 
that  Ivan  would  go  to  the  kabak  and  drink  vodka,  and 
so  he  would;  but  he  will  do  this  anyhow,  for  we  shall 
probably  give  him  twenty  kopecks  for  his  services  in  show- 
ing us  over  his  establishment,  and  Ivan's  money  all  goes 
one  way. 

In  the  corner  of  the  wall,  as  near  the  ceiling  as  pos- 
sible, hangs  an  ikon.  On  entering  the  room  every  faith- 


AS  SEEN  EN  ROUTE.  59 

ful  peasant  crosses  him  or  herself,  and  the  men  uncover. 
I  have  seen  Ivan  stumble  across  the  threshold  so  very 
drunk  that  only  the  proverbial  luck  that  protects  babies, 
puppy  dogs,  and  tipsy  men  enabled  him  to  move  at  all, 
and  yet  he  contrived  to  pull  the  greasy  cap  from  his 
greasier  head,  lift  his  bleary,  bloodshot  eyes  to  the  ikon, 
and  cross  himself.  There  is  an  ikon  on  the  wall  of  every 
room  in  every  Eussian  house,  be  it  an  imperial  palace  or 
a  prison,  a  luxurious  hotel  or  wayside  inn,  a  foetid  peasant's 
hut,  or  some  woman  of  the  town's  gaudy  boudoir.  Nor 
does  the  orthodox  Eussian  leave  his  religion  behind  him 
(as  do  the  orthodox  of  so  many  other  peoples)  when  he 
leaves  his  home  and  goes  to  his  counting-house  or  shop. 
Go  to  buy  velvet:  on  a  corner  of  the  wall  above  the  chif- 
fon-strewn counter  you  will  see  an  ikon.  Step  inside  the 
nearest  fishmonger's:  on  a  corner  of  the  wall  above  the 
marble  slab  heaped  with  slippery  beauties  hangs  an  ikon. 
Join  the  steady  stream  of  moujiks,  and  press  your  way 
into  the  crowded  vodka  shop:  it  has  an  ikon  as  surely 
as  it  has  its  supply  of  liquor  and  its  plenitude  of  patrons. 
Enter  some  luxurious  restaurant,  the  favourite  haunt  of 
the  gilded,  reckless  youth  of  Moscow  or  St.  Petersburg — 
look  up  from  your  richly  laid  table,  where  the  blackcock 
smokes  and  the  champagne  bubbles  against  the  ice:  on 
the  corner  of  the  wall  you  will  see  an  ikon — a  costly  one 
this  time. 

Some  reader  will  perhaps  wonder  what  an  ikon  is.  It 
is  a  half-length  picture,  or,  to  speak  with  more  exactness, 
a  pictorial  representation  of  the  Virgin  or  of  Jesus,  or  of 
some  one  of  the  many  saints  of  the  Eusso-Greek  Church. 
Ikons  are  usually  square,  and  vary  greatly  both  in  size 
and  quality — in  cost,  beauty,  and  workmanship.  I  have 
seen  many  that  were  not  larger  than  a  square  inch,  and 
I  have  seen  a  considerable  number  that  covered  many 
square  feet.  The  background  of  the  figure  is  usually  gold 
leaf  or  vivid  yellow.  Yellow  is  supremely  the  Eussian 
favourite  colour,  and  is  also  of  significance  to  the  devout 
believer  of  the  Greek  Church.  The  artist  or  the  artisan 
who  makes  the  ikon  invariably  employs  the  archaic  Byzan- 


60  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

tine  style.  The  picture  may  or  may  not  be  framed;  when 
it  is,  the  frame  is  always  as  costly  as  its  owner  or  guardians 
can  afford.  Whole  fortunes  have  been  spent  on  the  fram- 
ing of  an  ikon,  sometimes  even  on  the  purchase  of  a  single 
jewel  for  the  enriching  of  such  a  frame.  Usually  the 
whole  picture,  with  the  exception  of  the  face  and  hands, 
is  covered  with  an  embossed  plaque  of  metal.  Great  pains 
are  lavished  upon  this  embossing,  that  it  may  represent 
faithfully  the  undulations  of  the  drapery  and  the  outlines 
of  the  limbs  and  the  body.  The  garments  and  the  halo 
(the  sacred  figure  always  wears  a  halo)  are  frequently  set 
with  jewels  of  more  or  less  value — sometimes  with  gems 
that  are  priceless.  Pearls  are  used  oftenest,  for  the  Rus- 
sians, like  all  Oriental  people,  prize  pearls  above  rubies 
and  diamonds.  Emeralds,  diamonds,  turquoises,  rubies, 
sapphires,  opals,  garnets,  amethysts,  beryls,  and  a  score 
of  other  precious  and  semi-precious  stones  often  appear 
in  the  ikon's  adornment.  They  are  sometimes,  but  not 
often,  placed  on  the  figure  itself,  even  when  it  is  other- 
wise quite  flat — that  is,  neither  in  semi-relief  nor  covered 
with  a  plaque.  Quite  frequently  the  halo  alone  is  in  bas- 
relief.  Upon  the  ikons  are  found  some  of  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  the  celebrated  Russian  enamelling.  An  authority 
says:  "  A  careful  examination  of  ikons  belonging  to  vari- 
ous periods  has  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were 
originally  simple  pictures,  and  that  the  metallic  plaque 
is  a  modern  innovation.  The  first  departure  from  purely 
pictorial  representation  seems  to  have  been  the  habit  of 
placing  on  the  head  of  the  painted  figure  a  piece  of  orna- 
mental gold  work,  sometimes  set  with  precious  stones,  to 
represent  a  nimbus  or  a  crown.  This  strange  and,  to  our 
mind,  barbarous  method  of  combining  painting  with  haut- 
relief — if  such  a  term  may  be  applied  to  this  peculiar  kind 
of  decoration — was  afterward  gradually  extended  to  the 
various  parts  of  the  costume,  until  only  the  face  and 
hands  of  the  figure  remained  visible,  when  it  was  found 
convenient  to  unite  these  various  ornaments  with  the  gilt 
background  into  a  single  embossed  plate/' 

There  are  no  jewels  on  the  ikon  of  Ivan  Ivanovitch. 


AS  SEEN  EN  ROUTE.  61 

It  belongs  to  an  immensely  larger  class,  called  "  simple  " 
ikons,  which  are  accredited  with  no  miraculous  powers. 
Should  a  "  simple  "  ikon  work  a  miracle,  it  would  at  once 
pass  from  the  second  to  the  first  or  superior  class.  There 
is  probably  in  Eussia  no  peasant's  home  without  at  least 
one  simple  ikon.  They  are  manufactured  in  incredible 
numbers,  and  are  the  sole  industry  of  one  entire  province. 
Men,  women,  and  children  make  or  help  to  make  the  sacred 
pictures,  and  do  as  little  else  in  the  way  of  work  as  is  con- 
sistent with  existence  itself.  After  the  ikon  has  been 
blessed  by  a  priest  it  is  sacred.  A  peasant  buys  it  and 
enshrines  it  on  the  wall  of  his  room,  high  up,  where  it 
may  easily  be  seen  by  all  who  cross  the  threshold.  In 
Ivan's  home  bread  is  never  broken,  nor  soup  swallowed, 
but  that  each  one  who  is  about  to  partake,  or  who  has 
partaken,  bows  to  the  ikon  and  crosses  himself.  On  the 
night  preceding  a  fete  day  a  lamp  filled  with  holy  or  con- 
secrated oil  is  lighted  and  placed  before  at  least  one  ikon 
in  every  house. 

Of  the  first  class,  or  miracle-performing  ikons,  there 
are,  comparatively  speaking,  very  few.  They  are  called 
tchudotrormy.  It  would  be  impossible  to  convey  to  the 
mind  of  any  Anglo-Saxon  not  well  acquainted  with  Eus- 
sia and  things  Eussian  any  commensurate  idea  of  the 
reverence  in  which  these  tchudotrormies  are  held  by  rich 
and  poor.  The  shrines  and  temples  that  are  built  for  them, 
the  gems,  the  fortunes  that  are  given  to  them,  the  revenues 
that  are  dedicated  to  them,  the  incomes  that  are  secured 
to  them,  the  pilgrimages  that  are  made  to  them,  the  secrets 
and  sorrows  that  are  told  to  them,  and  the  punctilious 
and  adulating  respect  that  is  shown  to  them — must  be  seen 
to  be  believed. 

A  tchudotrormy  is  never,  I  believe,  kept  in  a  mere 
dwelling,  but  is  enshrined  in  a  cathedral,  church,  monas- 
tery, nunnery,  or  other  holy  house.  Several  of  them  have 
estates — broad  acres  of  their  own.  Many  of  them  have  per- 
sonal servants,  all  of  them  have  devotees  and  jewels.  It  is 
the  general  belief  that  the  tchudotrormies  are  not  only 
endowed  with  miraculous  power,  but  are  of  miraculous 


62  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

origin,  and  that  before  their  installation  in  their  present 
regal  shrines  their  whereabouts  have  been  shown  to  some 
holy  man  in  a  vision. 

A  goodly-sized  book,  and  a  very  interesting  one,  might 
easily  be  filled  with  the  histories  of  the  more  celebrated 
ikons.  Many  of  them  have  annual  fete  days;  the  anniver- 
sary of  their  discovery  is  held  as  a  holiday.  "  A  few  of 
them,"  writes  Wallace,  "  have  an  additional  title  to  popu- 
lar respect  and  veneration — that  of  being  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  great  events  in  Russian  national  history.  The 
Vladimir  Madonna,  for  example,  once  saved  Moscow  from 
the  Tartars;  the  Smolensk  Madonna  accompanied  the 
army  in  the  glorious  campaign  against  Napoleon  in  1812; 
and  when  in  that  year  it  was  known  in  Moscow  that  the 
French  were  advancing  on  the  city,  the  people  wished 
the  Metropolitan  to  take  the  Iberian  Madonna,  which 
may  now  be  seen  near  one  of  the  gates  of  the  Old  Wall, 
and  lead  them  armed  with  hatchets  against  the  enemy." 

When  I  add  to  the  table,  stove,  bench,  ikon,  etc.,  al- 
ready enumerated,  a  meagre  supply  of  crockery  and  cook- 
ing utensils,  and  a  liberal  number  of  dogs,  I  have,  I  believe, 
given  a  complete  inventory  of  the  things  contained  within 
the  four  walls  of  the  living  room  of  Ivan  Ivanovitch. 
There  are  thousands  and  thousands  of  just  such  homes,  con- 
taining just  such  rooms  and  inhabited  by  just  such  people, 
scattered  thickly  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  Russia. 

It  is  not  worth  our  while  to  peep  into  the  lower  shed 
into  which  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  living  room  leads. 
Very  cramped  is  this  little  back  room,  and  "  chock-a- 
block  "  with  the  shreds  and  patches  of  peasant  life — none 
of  them  very  clean  and  none  of  them  of  interest.  In  this 
place  as  many  of  the  household  dogs  sleep  as  can  not  crowd 
their  way  in  among  the  family.  In  this  heterogeneous 
mass  of  things  is  sure  to  be  at  least  one  litter  of  extremely 
young  puppies.  Multiply  the  inhabitants  of  any  Russian 
village  by  thirteen,  and  you  arrive  at  something  near  the 
number  of  the  village  dogs.  This  estimate  is  not  exces- 
sive, I  assure  you. 

Against  the  outside  of  the  house  leans  a  ladder;  climb 


AS  SEEN  EN  ROUTE.  63 

it,  crawl  through  a  hole  of  a  window,  and  you  are  in  the 
cherdak  or  garret — squat,  dirty,  and  oh,  what  a  triumph 
of  disorder!  Here  clothes  are  dried,  if  they  ever  by  any 
chance  get  washed,  or  as  often  as  any  of  the  family  get 
caught  out  in  a  rain  storm.  Here  Ivan  stores  his  grain, 
if  he  has  any,  and  here  is  also  stored  all  the  overflow  of 
rubbish  from  the  little  lower  back  room,  or  from  the  out- 
house or  shed  which  is  usually  found  standing  like  a 
great  gray  ant-hill  somewhere  in  the  waste  of  mud  which 
Ivan  calls  his  back  yard.  It  would  be  interesting  to  ex- 
amine the  interior  of  the  two-storied  building  which  is 
the  house  and  shop  of  that  great  and  good  man,  the  vil- 
lage merchant.  And  the  sociology  of  the  village  would 
well  repay  our  study.  But  we  have  time  for  neither  now, 
for  we  must  on  to  Moscow. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

LOVELY,    LAUGHING   MOSCOW. 

There  is  a  charm  peculiar  to  Moscow  among  the  cities  of  the 
world.  She  is  in  herself  the  centre  of  the  history  of  a  people — a  peo- 
ple fated  to  play  a  great  part  in  the  drama  of  the  future.  But  at 
present  the  charm  of  Moscow  is  in  its  past  story,  and  in  its  present 
life.  The  interest  of  the  past  story  of  the  city  arises  out  of  its  pecul- 
iar position  as  the  connecting  link  between  the  East  and  the  West. 
In  this  its  situation  is  somewhat  analogous  to  that  of  Constantinople, 
standing  upon  the  confines  of  two  divisions  of  the  earth,  and  thus  it 
has  to  bear  the  discords  of  different  races  and  to  be  the  scene  of  the 
conflicts  of  opposing  peoples.  Moscow  grew  up  from  a  collection  of 
small  villages  to  a  town  in  the  midst  of  warring  and  half -barbarous 
tribes,  and  thus  as  it  increased  in  concentration,  and  therefore  in  im- 
portance, it  was  sometimes  attacked  by  Polish  forces  from  the  west, 
partly  with  the  ambitious  object  of  the  sovereigns  of  Warsaw  to  ex- 
tend their  possessions  eastward  over  the  Muscovite  plains,  and  partly 
out  of  the  fear  of  the  threatening  increase  of  strength  of  the  popula- 
tions accumulating  on  their  exposed  and  eastern  border.  At  other 
times  the  country  round  was  invaded  from  the  east ;  and  Tartar 
hordes  came  up  in  overwhelming  numbers  to  the  walls,  and,  bursting 
over  them,  devoted  the  unhappy  place  to  sack  and  pillage.  These 
latter  were  actuated  by  no  motives  such  as  those  which  led  the  Poles 
up  to  the  gates  of  Moscow — motives  of  possession  and  increase  of 
national  strength.  These  were  only  lured  from  their  tents  and  their 
wild  plains  on  the  Don  by  the  hopes  of  plunder  and  the  gratification 
of  their  instincts  of  destruction.  But  the  hardy  sons  of  Muscovy, 
though  often  beaten  by  the  Poles  and  frequently  despoiled  by  the 
Tartar  hordes,  yet  rose  from  their  defeats  in  renewed  strength,  as 
Antaeus  from  his  mother  earth,  until,  becoming  the  nucleus  of  a  na- 
tion, they  were  able  to  beat  off  their  enemies  both  on  the  east  and  on 
the  west,  and  becoming  the  victors  in  the  place  of  the  vanquished, 
they  threw  back  the  armies  of  Poland  on  the  one  side  and  the  horse- 
men of  the  Don  on  the  other,  and,  following  the  rule  of  the  law  of  the 

64 


LOVELY,  LAUGHING  MOSCOW.  65 

•weak  and  the  strong,  they  forced  all  their  former  enemies  to  submis- 
sion. It  is  thus,  in  and  around  Moscow,  that  the  story  of  Russia  is  to 
be  read.  St.  Petersburg  is  but  the  modern  town  of  yesterday.  It  is 
as  yet  but  the  port  of  Russia,  an  imperfect  city,  and  bearing  in  all  its 
accessories  the  marks  of  a  new  town.  Even  Peter  could  not  make  at 
once  a  capital  city  in  all  its  completeness  by  even  his  iron  and  dom- 
ineering will.  G.  T.  LOWTH. 

IN  addition  to  some  of  the  villages  through  which  we 
passed,  there  were  a  few  little  bush  houses  huddled  together 
here  and  there.  They  were  shapeless;  they  sank  in  and 
bulged  out  at  the  sides;  and  as  for  their  roofs  of  grass, 
these  were  at  most  picturesque.  But  as  for  architectural 
definiteness  or  any  pretence  to  symmetry  of  form,  they 
were  utter  failures.  The  more  desperately  conditioned  of 
them  were  held  together  by  lackadaisical,  irregular  sup- 
ports of  undressed  branches.  But  only  where  the  hut 
was  palpably  new — and  not  always  then — did  any  roof 
appear  to  have  been  planned  to  measure,  or  built  with 
even  moderate  care. 

Most  of  the  villages  looked  deserted,  as  they  momen- 
tarily were;  all  the  inhabitants  were  working  in  the  fields. 
Later  in  the  day  we  passed  idle  groups  of  men,  women, 
and,  numerically  speaking,  unlimited  children,  all  of  them 
clad  in  blazing  colours.  All  were  tow-headed,  all  were 
shock-headed.  The  women  and  girls  wore  over  their  heads, 
and  knotted  under  their  chins,  kerchiefs  even  more  gaily 
coloured  than  their  dresses.  Every  positive  hue  known  to 
the  eye  of  man  was  there,  and  so  was  every  combination 
of  colour  calculated  to  set  an  artist's  teeth  on  edge.  They 
were  almost  all  barefooted,  though  I  recall  one  little  red- 
headed fellow  who  wore  a  pair  of  high  Eussian  boots,  and 
nothing  else.  They  sat  on  the  ground  and  on  the  stray 
logs  that  littered  their  untidy  doorways,  and  stared  at 
us  stolidly  or  grinned  at  us  uncouthly  as  we  steamed  slow- 
ly by. 

But  for  the  most  part  we  were  moving  on  through 
dull,  desolate  wastes  of  uninhabited  and  unimproved  land. 
It  was  all  flat  and  gray  and  dreary.  Much  of  it  was  marshy. 
Clouds  gathered  thickly  over  the  sun.  Now  and  again 


66  IN  JOYFUL  KUSSIA. 

the  dim  horizon  line  was  broken  by  dreary  belts  of  timber. 
Just  before  sunset  we  plunged  into  a  wood.  It  was  al- 
most a  forest,  and  the  most  desolate  place  I  was  ever  in. 
It  was  sadder  than  any  dismal  swamp  that  the  mind  can 
picture.  The  train  crept  through  it  painfully  like  some 
huge  reptile,  twisting  its  slow  way  among  the  gloom  and 
the  trunks  of  the  tall  attenuated  trees.  It  was  the  deso- 
lation of  Nature.  The  glass  in  the  carriage  windows  rattled, 
and  I  shivered  for  very  sympathy.  The  cold  and  sickly 
air  stirred  slowly  among  the  half-clad  branches,  and  the 
craven  trees  bent  their  great  heads  meekly  and  sullenly  in 
their  complete  inertia.  There  was  no  diminution  of  the 
sad  wood's  density  or  gloom.  We  passed  from  it  far  more 
suddenly  than  we  had  entered.  Chained  by  a. horrid  fas- 
cination, I  gazed  into  its  repellent  gloom,  then  closed  my 
eyes  but  for  a  moment;  and  on  opening  them  Moscow, 
the  triumph  of  daring,  lavish  architecture;  Moscow,  the 
golden,  glittering  link  between  the  Orient  and  the  West; 
Moscow,  holding  high  her  imperial  gem-decked  head,  sit- 
ting proudly  upon  her  green  hills,  basking  radiantly  in 
her  own  regal  beauty  and  God's  superb  sunlight,  smiled 
into  my  amazed,  enchanted  eyes. 

Earth  has  no  picture  to  compare  with  this.  Nature 
has  often  done  more  than  she  has  upon  the  shores  of  the 
Moskva,  but  man  has  achieved  nothing  to  equal  Moscow 
in  unique,  surprising,  irregular,  lawless  beauty,  nor  in 
imperious  barbaric  splendour.  Did  the  old  City  of  Mexico 
present  half  so  brave  a  sight  when  Cortez  and  his  "iron 
warriors"  beheld  it  first?  I  doubt  it.  Moscow,  "Mother 
Moscow,"  whom  the  Eussians  love  with  a  love  passing 
the  love  of  women,  a  love  unmatched  in  history  even  by 
those  superb  old  warriors  who  prayed  to  their  father 
Tiber  and  proudly  died  for  Eome.  Moscow,  "  Holy  Mos- 
cow," where  all  that  is  most  sacred  in  the  Greek  Church 
is  enshrined,  where  religion  and  devotion  wear  their 
brightest,  richest  vestments.  Moscow!  Imperial  Moscow, 
to  which  the  great  White  Tsar  comes  to  receive  the  crown 
of  all  the  Russias  from  the  hand  of  God.  Moscow,  where 
the  newly  crowned  Tsar  kneels  and  prays  to  God  for 


LOVELY,  LAUGHING  MOSCOW.  67 

strength  and  wisdom,  and  for  his  people's,  his  children's 
welfare.  Moscow,  where  the  autocrat  of  all  the  Eussias 
makes  a  solemn  covenant  with  all  his  subjects  and  with 
God  himself.  Moscow  the  Beautiful!  Moscow  the  Glad! 
Moscow  the  Gay  and  Laughing! 

The  city  lies  upon  the  banks  of  the  Moskva  like  some 
Asiatic  Venus  Genetrix.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  give  any 
detailed  description  of  the  marvellous,  gorgeous  build- 
ings which,  welded  together  with  the  trees  and  lovely 
smiling  gardens,  made  up  the  sumptuous  panorama  that 
met  my  delighted  eyes.  Time  enough  for  that,  reader  (I 
know  that  I  shall  have  at  least  one  reader),  when  we  walk 
together,  as  Robert  Browning  walked, 

Over  the  Kremlin's  pavement  bright 
With  serpentine  and  syenite. 

To  see  Moscow  for  the  first  time  and  in  its  entirety  is  an 
intoxicating  event,  enough  to  stir  the  pulses  and  confuse  the 
cool  judgment  of  a  far  more  sober-minded  man  than  I 
am.  It  was  a  red-letter  day — a  punctuation  point  in  my 
life  which  I  shall  never  forget,  a  wealth  of  which  I  can 
never  be  robbed.  Blase  travellers  often  tell  us  that  the 
world  is  a  small  place  and  everywhere  much  alike.  They 
are  blind,  or  they  have  never  seen  "  Moscow  the  White 
Walled! " 

Sumptuousness  of  colour  and  eccentricity  of  form  was 
what  impressed  me  more  than  all  else.  Centring  all,  and 
above  all,  stood- the  Kremlin,  the  indescribable,  the  sacred. 
I  could  but  recognise  it,  with  its  splendour  of  churches  and 
palaces,  its  gate-pierced  and  tower-broken  wall,  and  its 
outer  encirclement  of  exquisite  gardens  that  were  once  a 
formidable  moat.  About  the  Kremlin  lay  beautiful,  bar- 
baric Moscow.  Wherever  the  eye  rested  were  roofs  of 
blue,  of  green,  of  red;  walls  of  yellow  and  of  purple. 
Green  parks  and  gardens  broke  the  picture  everywhere, 
a  grateful  relief  to  stranger  eyes,  wearied  by  their  first 
gloating  over  this  mad  carnival  of  colour.  Innumerable 
churches,  Oriental  of  shape  and  barbarically  sumptuous 
of  roof,  lifted  on  high  the  cross  of  Christ,  made  of  pure 


68  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

gold,  and,  pointing  to  the  calm  blue  heavens  above, 
bore  bright  but  silent  witness  that  as  Rome  is  the  city 
of  Mary,  so  is  Moscow  the  dedicated  city  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  You  can  not  lift  your  eyes  as  you  stand  in 
the  streets  of  Moscow  without  seeing  the  sacred  emblem 
of  the  Christian  Church.  Almost  every  church  is  a  mass 
of  green  and  glittering  cupolas,  of  star-bespangled 
belfries  and  golden  spires,  of  twisted  towers  and  grace- 
ful minarets  that  look  as  if  they  had  been  filched  from 
some  Oriental  mosque  and  bodily  transported  to  Mos- 
cow. 

It  is  a  city  of  indescribably  sumptuous  churches,  of 
splendid  palaces  and  palace-like  buildings,  of  twisting, 
irregular  streets,  of  gaily  painted  houses  and  plenteous, 
well-kept  gardens.  Yes,  it  is  all  that,  the  Moscow  that 
I  looked  upon  with  awed  eyes  and  pulsating  admiration. 
As  I  try  to  solve  the  riddle  of  her  permanent  fascina- 
tion, I  am  convinced  that  she  both  startled  and  held 
me,  not  so  much  because  of  her  beauty,  her  unequalled 
splendour,  her  supreme  peculiarities,  as  because  of  her 
diversities.  No  two  churches  were  alike  in  colour  or  out- 
line. All  glittered,  gleamed,  and  sparkled,  but  all  differed. 
The  sun  was  slowly  setting  and  intensifying  the  splendour 
of  colour  it  could  not  rival,  illuminating  the  myriads  of 
creations  of  Russo-Byzantine  architecture  with  which  Mos- 
cow is  replete.  Moscow  rests  upon  a  succession  of  low 
waving  hills.  Almost  through  the  heart  of  the  sacred 
and  glittering  city  flows  that  lazy,  lagging  river,  the  pur- 
plish Moskva.  Its  motionless  bosom  reflected  the  bright 
but  gentle  colours  of  the  prodigal  sunset  that  was  bathing 
with  a  good-night  benediction  every  nook  and  crevice  of 
this  strangely  fascinating  city. 

Among  all  this  vast,  indescribable  melee  of  colour  and 
of  bizarre  form  (Moscow  has  a  circumference  of  twenty- 
five  miles)  the  great  gold  dome  of  the  Temple  of  the 
Saviour  glittered  supreme.  Rising  against  the  bright  blue 
sky,  and  crowning  a  magnificent  edifice  of  pure  white, 
it  is  pre-eminent  among  all  the  showy  ornaments  of  "  Holy 
Mother  Moscow,"  and  attracts  the  eye  and  holds  it,  until 


LOVELY,  LAUGHING  MOSCOW.  69 

the  gathering  dark  dims  the  matchless  picture  and  re- 
minds us  that  our  journey  is  ended. 

At  the  station  all  was  bustle,  life,  and  excitement.  A 
fine  spread  of  crimson  carpet  was  laid  along  the  platform, 
bordered  by  double  lines  of  smart  soldiery.  We  wasted 
little  time  after  we  had  thanked  Lieutenant  Gourko  and 
bidden  him  au  revoir,  but  drove  at  once  to  the  house  that 
our  Consul  had  kindly  taken  for  us,  and  where  I  found 
my  mother  waiting  to  welcome  us,  surrounded  by  many 
familiar  objects  from  our  own  far-distant  home.  Could 
journey  have  a  better  ending,  or  sojourn  in  a  foreign  land 
a  brighter  beginning?  I  thought  not.  In  one  corner  of 
the  room  hung  a  resplendent  ikon;  on  an  easel  stood  my 
mother's  ikon,  my  father's  picture,  and,  surrounding  it, 
that  which  he  had  loved  and  reverenced  as  the  devoutest 
Russian  loves  and  reveres  the  Holy  Iberian  Mother;  for 
about  his  portrait  my  widowed  mother  had  with  loving 
hands  draped  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

HOW   WE   KEPT   HOUSE   IN  MOSCOW. 

"I  WONDEK  if  we  won't  have  batter  cakes  for  break- 
fast ? "  said  G.  as  he  rubbed  his  eyes  the  next  morning. 
He,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  had  not  taken  kindly  to 
Slavonic  diet,  and  had  great  faith  in  my  mother,  but  I 
knew  better.  I  knew  that  we  should  find  ourselves  in 
a  truly  Muscovite  menage.  And  so  it  proved.  My  mother 
emphatically  believes  in  trying  the  ways  of  the  people 
among  whom  one  chances  to  be,  and  I  knew  that  she  would 
seize  upon  our  four  weeks'  residence  in  Moscow  as  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  to  educate  us  in  the  domestic  customs 
of  the  upper-class  Muscovites.  And  so  she  did.  There- 
fore a  slight  record  of  how  we  kept  house  in  Moscow  may 
be  of  interest. 

Our  rooms  were  brightened  here  and  there  with  a  few 
flowers.  That  was  a  shocking  extravagance  of  mother's, 
for  in  Moscow  just  then  flowers  were  worth  many  times 
their  weight  in  silver.  And  the  place  was  made  homelike 
by  the  presence  of  some  trifles  that  she  always  carries  with 
her,  her  Lares  and  Penates,  each  of  which  is  the  valued 
memento  of  some  sacred  bit  of  home  history.  But  for 
all  that  it  was  the  veriest  Russian  home,  and  we  led  a 
Eussian  sort  of  home  life  in  it. 

Our  temporary  abode  had  been  secured  for  us  months 
before,  and  luckily  so;  for  at  the  time  of  our  arrival  the 
price  for  such  accommodations  would  have  been  quite 
prohibitive,  if  any  had  been  obtainable,  which  is  most 
improbable.  "When  we  had  determined,  several  months 
before,  to  see  the  Eussian  coronation,  we  had  written  to 

TO 


HOW  WE  KEPT  HOUSE  IN  MOSCOW.  71 

the  United  States  Minister  in  St.  Petersburg  begging  his 
good  offices  in  securing  for  us  a  temporary  domicile  in 
Moscow.  Minister  Breckinridge  had  kindly  put  the  matter 
in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Billiard,  the  United  States  Consul  in 
Moscow,  and  the  latter  had  taken  for  us  Dom  Schlippe, 
Gagarinski  Pereulok.  Dom  Schlippe  was  the  name  of  the 
house,  and  Gagarinski  Pereulok  was  the  little  street  on 
which  it  stood.  No  Russian  house  has  a  number,  but  all  are 
named  after  their  owners  instead.  Dom  Schlippe  means 
the  house  of  Schlippe;  and  Dom  Schlippe  was  all  we  ever 
said  to  an  isvoschik  when  directing  him  to  take  us  home. 
We  neither  mentioned  the  street  nor  the  quarter.  The 
reader  must  not  infer  from  this  that  ours  was  an  excep- 
tionally fine  or  well-known  place.  It  was  not.  It  was  good 
enough,  but  there  were  thousands  like  it  in  Moscow,  and 
thousands  much  better.  No  matter  where  we  wished  to 
drive,  we  merely  mentioned  the  name  of  the  building 
which  was  the  object  of  our  search.  It  seemed  a  miracle 
to  me  that  we  always  reached  our  destination  without  the 
slightest  confusion  or  delay.  And  this  seems  a  miracle 
to  me  still  when  I  recall  the  intricate  labyrinths  of  the  twist- 
ing, turning  Moscow  streets,  and  the  unnumbered  houses 
bearing  only  the  owner's  name,  with  nothing  to  indicate 
their  particular  situation  or  relation  to  other  houses.  Most 
of  all  I  marvel  when  I  reflect  what  a  stupid  fellow  the  Eus- 
sian  isvoschik  always  seemed  to  be.  The  fact  of  the  matter 
is  that,  looks  or  no  looks,  Ivan  has  a  phenomenal  bump 
of  locality  and  a  gigantic  memory  for  names  hidden  some- 
where in  that  thick,  dumb,  shaggy  head  of  his. 

Our  landlord  was  not  Schlippe,  but  the  house  had  some 
years  before  belonged  to  a  well-known  citizen  of  that  name. 
It  was  now  the  residence  of  a  Mr.  Spohr,  a  very  well-to-do 
Muscovite,  who,  like  many  of  his  thrifty  fellow-citizens, 
tempted  by  the  rents  offered  for  temporary  accommodation, 
had  adjusted  himself  and  family  to  the  narrow  confines 
of  the  upper  rooms,  and  placed  the  lower  apartments  in 
which  he  usually  lived  at  our  disposal.  They  were  large, 
comfortable,  and  fairly  luxurious.  Our  landlord  we  scarce- 
ly ever  saw.  He  often  sent  a  courteous  inquiry  if  he  could 
.G 


72  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

be  of  any  service,  or  if  the  servants  he  had  procured  for  us 
were  satisfactory?  Sometimes  we  passed  him  in  the 
courtyard.  But  our  intercourse  seldom  went  beyond  a 
civil  greeting,  and  we  felt  that  Dom  Schlippe  was  quite 
our  own. 

Our  servants  were  a  dainty  lot.  First,  there  was  the 
dvornik  or  yard  porter.  He  was  the  most  solemn  man  I 
ever  met.  He  deserves  more  than  passing  mention,  not 
only  because  he  was  a  person  of  character,  but  because  he 
represents  a  very  essential  wheel  in  the  domestic  machinery 
of  every  Eussian  household  of  the  better  class.  Then 
there  was  Anuska,  our  cook,  and  pretty  Yertza,  our  gipsy- 
faced  kitchen-maid.  Anuska  looked  somewhat  matronly. 
I  think  that  her  head-dress  was  that  of  a  wife.  Except 
in  the  matter  of  head-dress  and  a  scarf  that  Anuska  wore, 
these  two  servants  dressed  alike.  They  both  wore  thick, 
loose  boots.  Each  wore  a  white  linen  or  cotton  shirt, 
coarsely  embroidered  with  crimson,  with  very  loose  elbow 
sleeves — leg-o'-mutton  is  the  technical  term,  I  believe. 
Each  wore  several  strings  of  coloured  beads  about  her 
throat,  and  a  big,  green  baize,  crimson-bound  apron 
fastened  about  her  waist.  Under  the  apron  was  a  short 
Eussian  skirt,  reaching  to  within  a  foot  of  the  ankles, 
made  of  coarse  stuff,  in  which  fancy  stripes  of  light  yellow 
.crosses  and  pink  and  green  lozenges  alternated  with  plain 
ones  of  green,  magenta,  scarlet,  and  brown.  The  effect  of 
the  whole  was  rich,  dark,  and  hideous.  These  skirts  were 
stiff  and  straight.  They  opened  in  front  over  a  longer  but 
equally  stiff  garment  of  white.  Indeed,  they  were  more 
like  an  ugly  imitation  of  the  straight  piece  of  cloth  which 
the  women  of  so  many  Eastern  countries  wrap  about 
their  hips  than  a  civilized  dress  skirt.  Yertza  wore  a  band 
of  crimson  among  her  black  braids.  Anuska  covered  her 
hair  turban  fashion  with  a  gaudily  embroidered,  magenta- 
coloured  scarf,  whose  long  fringed  ends  she  brought  round 
her  waist  and  knotted  in  front.  Please  observe  our  stove — 
our  Moscow  cooking-stove!  How  and  where  upon  it 
Anuska  cooked  I  never  could  discover.  But  she  did  cook, 
and  cook  supremely  well.  We  had  kalatchs  and  chocolate 


Our  little  servant. 


HOW  WE  KEPT  HOUSE  IN  MOSCOW.  73 

in  bed  each,  morning,  and  a  hearty  breakfast  later.  We 
always  emphasized  our  morning  meal  because  of  the  ex- 
hausting and  fatiguing  functions  which  usually  lay  be- 
fore us.  Dinner  we  rarely  had  at  home.  But  the  occa- 
sional ones  we  did  have  were  astonishingly  good,  admirably 
selected,  and  admirably  cooked.  Anuska  did  the  market- 
ing, and  the  day's  menu  was  left  quite  to  her  discretion. 
The  result  amazed  us  until  we  learned  her  history  from  our 
landlord,  Mr.  Spohr,  who  related  it  as  follows: 

"  There  was  an  old  nobleman  in  Russia,  some  fifty  or 
sixty  years  ago,  who  was  famous  throughout  the  Empire 
for  his  appetite,  both  for  its  quantity  and  for  its  quality. 
To  make  Anuska's  story  intelligible,  I  must  preface  it  with 
his.  I  will  not  mention  his  name.  He  made  it  his  boast 
that  he  was  the  greatest  gourmand  in  Eussia;  his  whole 
conversation  was  concerning  savoury  dishes  and  delicious 
meats,  to  the  concocting  of  which  his  entire  mental  ener- 
gies were  devoted.  His  dreams  were  visions  of  soups, 
fricassees,  and  pates,  varied  with  ragouts,  jellies,  and 
macedoines.  Whenever  his  genius  had  discovered  some 
new  combination  of  good  things  he  seemed  to  think  it 
redounded  as  much  to  his  honour  as  the  victory  at  Aus- 
terlitz  did  to  Napoleon's,  or  the  discovery  of  the  theory 
of  gravitation  to  Newton's.  By  excessively  high  living 
he  had  attained  so  enormous  a  size  that  the  door  of  his  car- 
riage had  to  be  made  of  the  entire  width  of  one  side  to 
allow  of  his  getting  in  and  out;  his  eyes  were  almost 
buried  in  the  fat  of  his  cheeks,  and  his  thick  lips  and  heavy 
looks  showed  to  what  an  extent  he  pursued  the  gratifica- 
tion of  his  favourite  vice. 

"This  estimable  old  gentleman,  in  order  to  have  the 
cookery  of  every  nation  in  its  highest  perfection,  hit  upon 
the  ingenious  plan  of  sending  one  of  his  serfs  to  each  of 
the  great  capitals  of  Europe  to  be  initiated  in  all  the 
mysteries  of  the  cuisine  of  that  country.  One  was  in 
Vienna,  another  in  Paris,  a  third  in  London,  and  the 
fourth  in  Naples.  The  sum  this  cost  him  was  enormous, 
not  only  for  the  journeys,  but  on  account  of  the  high 
premium  demanded  for  their  instruction.  The  man  sent 


74  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

to  Paris  was  bound  for  three  years;  he  was  the  most  in- 
telligent of  the  four.  His  master  built  many  castles  in 
the  air  about  him;  he  was  never  tired  of  talking  of  the 
great  progress  this  servant  was  making  in  the  culinary  art, 
while  the  agreeable  prospect  of  innumerable  good  din- 
ners,-rich  soups,  and  magnificent  entremets  solaced  him 
and  served  to  cheer  him  up  whenever  an  attack  of  indiges- 
tion caused  him  a  fit  of  the  blues.  He  did  not  know,  poor 
man!  that  the  dreams  of  his  distant  serf  were  widely  dif- 
ferent from  his  own;  nor  perhaps  had  it  ever  entered  his 
mind  that  in  learning  la  cuisine  Frangaise  he  might  pos- 
sibly learn  the  language,  and  imbibe  French  notions  of 
liberty  as  well;  but  so  it  was.  The  three  years  at  last  were 
up,  and  the  old  gentleman  was  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation; 
his  delicious  dreams  were  about  to  become  realized;  he 
had  invited  a  host  of  acquaintances  to  dine  with  him  on 
a  certain  day.  But,  alas!  the  very  morning  on  which  he 
made  so  sure  of  welcoming  with  open  arms  his  chef  de 
cuisine  from  abroad  there  came  a  letter  in  which  the 
former  slave  politely  and  delicately  informed  him  that, 
owing  to  a  great  change  in  his  views,  both  social  and 
political,  he  could  not  decide  upon  devoting  the  rest  of  his 
days  to  his  service;  that  he  was  going  to  be  married  to  a 
charming  young  grisette,  and  had  resolved  upon  becoming 
a  French  citizen  in  fact,  as  he  was  already  one  at  heart. 
He  concluded  by  returning  his  sincere  thanks  for  the 
protection  and  patronage  his  former  master  had  given  him, 
sent  the  receipted  bills  for  the  expenses  which  had  been 
incurred  on  his  account,  which  he  assured  him  had  been 
honourably  paid  in  his  name  out  of  the  money  forwarded 
to  Paris  for  the  purpose,  and  finished  with  the  most  amiable 
wishes  for  his  health  and  prosperity.  The  grief  and  dis- 
may of  the  old  gourmand  were  inconceivable,  and  such 
an  effect  did  the  mortification  have  on  him  that  he  re- 
mained in  bed  a  whole  fortnight  to  lament  in  solitude  his 
irreparable  loss.  The  serf  who  had  been  sent  to  Vienna 
came  faithfully  back,  and  proved  a  veritable  cordon  bleu, 
the  joy,  the  pride,  and  the  solace  of  his  high-born  mas- 
ter's declining  years.  In  the  course  of  time  he  became 


HOW  WE  KEPT  HOUSE  IN  MOSCOW.  75 

Anuska's  grandfather.  Anuska's  father  was  born  with 
a  talent  for  cooking;  was  he  not  the  son  and  the  pupil  of 
the  Vienna-trained  cJief?  Anuska  inherited  the  family 
gift,  and,  having  no  brothers,  fell  heir  to  the  ancestral 
lore." 

She  came  high,  if  I  remember  aright,  but  why  not? 
She  was  an  artist.  And  who  shall  say  that  that  rara  avis, 
a  cook  who  can  cook,  is  not  worth  a  great  wage?  Not  I, 
for  one.  I  know  better.  As  I  write,  we  are  again  keeping 
house,  but  the  scene  has  changed  from  Moscow  to  Lucerne, 
a  little  village  where  the  shadows  of  Pilatus  and  the  Eigi 
meet  upon  the  rippled  mirror  of  the  lovely  lake,  and  I 
am  engaged  in  writing,  and  in  handing  over  princely 
fractions  of  my  income — which  is  less  princely  than  I 
could  wish — to  incompetent,  bungling  Swiss  servants. 
The  first  fortnight  we  were  in  residence  here  we  had  two 
chefs,  a  kitchen-maid,  and  three  lady  cooks  (you  must  be 
polite  to  your  servants  in  Switzerland;  it  is  a  republic 
and  the  people  are  proud).  They  don't  import  labour  here. 
I  wish  they  did. 

I  am  no  gourmet  and  far  less  a  gourmand,  but  often 
of  late  have  I  sighed  for  the  sweets  and  the  savouries  pro- 
duced by  Anuska,  our  Moscow  cook.  And  she  was  as  will- 
ing as  she  was  efficient.  Cooking  was  both  her  art  and  her 
trade,  and  she  loved  to  ply  it.  She  never  stood  upon  the 
order  of  her  cooking,  but  was  always  upon  the  qui  vive  to 
cook  at  once.  Several  nights,  or  rather  very  early  in  the 
mornings,  she  rose  with  alacrity  in  answer  to  our  hungry 
summons,  and  cooked  us  a  quick,  hearty,  delicious  meal. 
She  gloried  in  doing  it,  and  we  gloried  in  eating  it,  tired, 
famished,  and  worn  out  as  we  so  often  were. 

I  have  no  exact  information  about  Yertza's  history  or 
duties;  the  latter  were,  I  believe,  very  similar  to  those 
of  other  scullery  maids  all  the  world  over.  She  washed 
pans  and  scoured  pots,  and  fetched  and  carried  and  waited 
upon  Anuska,  and  kow-towed  to  her.  To  be  honest,  I  only 
saw  Yertza  once.  I  believe  her  wages  were  small.  She 
was  rather  a  delicate-looking  little  thing,  but  they  said 
that  her  appetite  was  large.  There  were  three  men  servants 


76  IN  JOYFUL  EUSSIA. 

in  our  menage.  They  all  were  quiet,  quick,  well-trained, 
and  obliging. 

I  have  spoken  of  our  dvornik — spoken  of  him  as  part 
and  parcel  of  our  household — and  so  indeed  he  was;  but 
for  a  household  servant  he  continued  to  spend  an  amazing 
amount  of  time  on  the  street.  Our  house  stood  at  the 
back  of  a  deep  and  not  over-clean  courtyard.  Beside  the 
gate,  directly  on  the  street,  stood  the  lodge,  the  dvornik's 
little  one-roomed  house.  It  was  a  dirty  room  and  evil- 
smelling.  Small  wonder  that  its  occupant  occupied  it  as 
little  as  possible,  but  left  it  to  his  wife  and  their  four 
children.  But  I  fear  that  a  distaste  for  foetid  air  and  the 
smell  of  decomposed  cabbage  soup  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  porter's  distaste  for  indoor  life.  He  liked  to  see  and 
be  seen.  And  unless  the  day  was  drenching  wet,  he  nearly 
always  was  to  be  seen  sitting  on  the  narrow  old  bench  that 
stood  beside  the  gate  opposite  to  his  house.  He  was  a 
great  musician — that  is,  if  quantity  as  well  as  quality 
counts  in  the  musical  art — and  why  should  it  not?  Ivan 
Dvornik  made  much  music.  He  made  it  upon  a  square, 
greasy  concertina,  an  instrument  dear  to  the  heart  of 
every  moujik,  and  euphoniously  called  a  garmouka.  I 
personally  did  not  dote  upon  Ivan  Dvornik's  musical  re- 
citals. But  far  be  it  from  me  to  hint  that  the  fault  was 
his.  I  am  not  musical — not  seriously  so.  And  I  have  even 
heard  world-famous  virtuosos  whom  I  did  not  yearn  ever 
to  hear  again.  Certainly,  I  did  not  understand  the  sacred 
spirit  of  Slavonic  music  as  possibly  Ivan  Dvornik  did. 
Moreover,  I  have  never  loved  the  concertina;  he  adored 
it.  When  I  was  last  in  London,  all  the  music-hall  world 
was  singing  or  whistling  a  Homeric  ditty,  which  began — 

He  wanted  something  to  play  with, 

Something  to  love  and  adore ; 
Something  attractive  and  pretty, 

Something  to  love  evermore. 

I  never  hear  those  pathetic  lines  without  thinking  of 
Ivan  Dvornik  and  his  concertina.  He  wanted  something 
to  play  with,  something  to  love  and  adore,  and,  by  Jinks! 


HOW  WE  KEPT  HOUSE  IN  MOSCOW.  77 

he  had  it.  He  loved  and  adored  his  garmouka,  and,  by 
all  the  gods  and  little  fishes,  he  played  with  it  evermore, 
and  even  more.  He  loved  it  every  moment  of  his  life,  and 
in  his  waking  hours  he  only  ceased  to  play  it  when  food 
and  vodka  were  placed  before  him,  or  when  he  was  con- 
fronted by  some  piece  of  work  which  he  found  it  abso- 
lutely impossible  to  depute  to  a  lieutenant,  or  to  leave 
unperformed.  He  had  three  lieutenants — his  wife  and 
his  two  strapping  boys.  The  elder  boy  was  nearly  grown, 
and  the  younger  a  sixteen-year-old  giant.  In  the  summer 
the  three  subordinates  do  most  of  the  work,  and  musical 
Ivan  Dvornik  keeps  up  appearances  and  the  dignity  of 
the  position.  In  the  winter  he  does  rather  more  work 
himself,  not  so  much  because  there  is  more  work  to  be 
done  as  because  for  the  moment  his  darling  garmouka 
is  hushed,  for  the  most  skilled  concertinaist  can  not  ply 
his  charming  art  with  frozen  fingers.  And  through  all 
the  long  cold  winter  Ivan  Dvornik  still  sits  on  the  narrow 
old  bench  that  stands  beside  the  gate.  Oh,  the  cruel,  cruel 
Eussian  winter!  There  is  snow — snow  everywhere.  Icicles 
hang  their  frosty  fringe  from  the  old  bench's  edge.  And 
the  falling,  ever-falling  snow  drifts  up  swiftly,  burying 
the  bench,  icicles,  Ivan  Dvornik's  legs,  and  all.  Still,  he 
sits  on  stolidly;  even  when  he  moves  heavily  to  kick  and 
shake  himself  free  from  the  fleecy  covering,  you  can  only 
see  his  eyes,  so  thickly  and  so  completely  is  he  swathed 
and  swathed  again  in  shaggy,  greasy  sheepskins.  He  is 
even  a  duller,  sadder  dog  then  than  he  is  as  I  knew  him 
in  summer  time,  for  his  sweet- voiced,  or  rather  his  squeak- 
voiced,  garmouka  is  laid  away,  and  the  vodka  has  only  half 
the  effect  upon  his  sluggish  nature  that  it  has  in  summer. 
Let  me  enumerate  such  of  Ivan  Dvornik's  duties  as 
linger  in  my  memory.  I  beg  of  my  patient  victim  to  bear 
in  mind  that  some  are  only  performed  in  winter,  others  only 
in  summer,  and  that  three  fourths  are  always  done  by 
deputy.  It  is  his  duty  to  see  to  the  passports  of  all  who 
dwell  within  the  house,  and  to  see  that  each  of  these  in- 
mates is  properly  provided,  as  the  law  prescribes,  with  all 
due  papers  and  documents  pertaining  to  citizenship,  tern- 


78  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

porary  residence,  etc.  He  is  responsible  to  the  police  for 
all  this.  He  must  also  see  that  all  passports  are  duly 
vised  or  renewed  at  the  proper  time  and  at  the  proper 
place.  It  is  his  duty  to  aid  the  street  police  in  arresting 
the  miscreants  and  arousing  the  benumbed  about  his  gates. 
He  must  also  assist  the  gorodovoy  when  any  disturbance 
or  accident  occurs  in  the  near  street.  In  the  house-yard 
shed  there  are  vast  piles  of  firewood.  These  he  must  cut, 
break,  or  saw  into  lengths  or  shapes  suitable  for  the  dif- 
ferent stoves  in  the  house's  many  rooms.  Then  he  must 
carry  the  fuel  to  the  flame,  the  wood  to  the  stove.  Every 
drop  of  water  used  in  the  house  for  any  purpose  whatso- 
ever is  brought  to  the  gates  in  carts  or  barrels.  At  least 
it  was  so  in  our  house,  and  it  is  in  almost  all.  From  the 
gate  Ivan  Dvornik  must  carry  it  into  the  kitchen.  In 
many  households  Ivan  has  to  bring  it  from  the  river  to 
the  door  as  well.  In  many  ways  our  dvornik  was,  com- 
pared with  others,  a  man  of  leisure.  Often  ten  or  twenty 
families  occupy  apartments  or  flats  in  the  same  house. 
Then  there  is  work  for  the  dvornik,  and  to  spare.  In  ad- 
dition to  the  many  things  I  have  mentioned,  he  often  acts 
as  the  landlord's  agent  or  steward,  letting  the  apartments, 
collecting  the  rent,  etc.  Ivan  Dvornik — our  particular 
Ivan  Dvornik — never,  that  I  remember,  spoke  to  me.  He 
touched  his  greasy  cap  solemnly  when  he  saw  me,  and 
crossed  himself  devoutly  when  I  tipped  him.  He  was 
superlatively  "a  smileless  man,"  though  I  knew  him  in 
the  springtime  when  the  fields  were  brightening  with 
bloom,  the  birds  in  voice,  and  the  garmoukas  well  in  tune. 
Take  him  all  in  all,  I  have  no  wish  to  meet  his  like  again. 
Our  house  itself  was  most  comfortable  and  spacious. 
We  had  rooms  enough.  They  were  all  large  and  well 
furnished.  The  floors  were  of  different  patterns,  but  all 
of  inlaid  oak.  There  was  not  a  carpet  in  the  place,  except 
a  bright  blue  Persian  square  on  the  floor  of  a  delightful 
little  boudoir,  which  was  quite  a  gem  of  a  room.  Figures 
in  scenes  a  la  Watteau  smiled  and  courtesied  from  the  walls, 
and  on  the  ceilings  quite  an  army  of  bowed  and  arrowed 
Cupids  waged  their  pretty  warfare  and  pursued  their  harm- 


HOW  WE  KEPT  HOUSE  IN  MOSCOW.  79 

less  amourettes.  There  was  a  bit  of  gilt  everywhere  on  ceil- 
ing and  wall;  there  were  dainty  gilt  ornamentations  on 
the  crystal  candelabras,  delicate  threads  of  gold  woven  in 
the  rose  brocade  that  hung  at  window  and  door  and  cov- 
ered the  chairs  and  couch.  Every  room  on  the  entire 
floor  opened  into  at  least  one  other.  This  is  usual  in  the 
houses  of  the  Kussian  better  classes.  Such  an  arrangement 
lends  itself  to  lavish  entertaining  and  to  display  in  per- 
spective effects.  In  front  of  each  bedroom  door  stood  a 
large  screen.  And  into  each  room  an  enormous  porcelain 
stove  projected.  These  stoves  are  built  so  as  to  heat  two 
rooms. 

No  nation  is  more  hospitable  than  the  Eussian.  The 
half-starved  moujik  will  share  with  the  stranger,  traveller, 
friend,  or  foe,  his  last  loaf  of  black  bread  and  his  last 
glass  of  tea  as  willingly  and  generously  as  will  the  Arab 
of  the  desert  divide  his  last  handful  of  dried  dates  and  the 
remnant  of  brackish  water  in  his  almost  empty  water  skin. 
To  the  lavish  hospitality  of  the  Eussian  of  the  upper 
class  there  is  no  limit.  The  rich  spend  their  wealth  like 
water  to  entertain  their  friends,  and  many  a  family,  nobly 
born  but  impoverished,  stints  itself  of  all  but  the  neces- 
saries of  life  for  months  that  enough  money  may  be  saved 
to  give  a  sumptuous  dinner. 

Our  Moscow  household  had  one  great  drawback.  The 
day  after  our  arrival  I  desired,  I  trust  not  unreasonably, 
to  take  a  bath.  Lo  and  behold,  there  was  neither  bath-tub 
nor  bathroom  in  the  house!  I  used  a  sponge  and  some 
language,  dressed  as  best  I  could,  and  went  out  to  order  a 
tub  made.  I  succeeded  in  bribing  the  tinsmith  to  be  quick 
in  executing  the  order.  On  the  second  or  third  day  at 
about  noon  the  tub  arrived.  I  ordered  a  warm  bath.  They 
were  about  three  hours  and  a  half  preparing  it,  and  then 
it  was  not  emphatically  warm.  They  had  heated  the  water 
in  the  samovar,  and  while  one  vesselful  had  been  boil- 
ing, its  predecessor  had  been  growing  cold  in  my  tub. 
About  five  o'clock  one  of  the  servants  asked  for  kopecks 
that  he  might  send  for  enough  water  for  our  afternoon 
tea.  It  had  all  been  used  in  the  Barm's  bath,  he  said.  After 


80  IN  JOYFUL  EUSSIA. 

that  we  had  a  larger  quantity  of  water  bought  from  the 
cart  that  came  to  our  door  each  day.  "We  paid  for  the 
water  on  delivery,  and  bought  it  by  the  quart.  Scarcity 
of  water  seemed  to  me  rather  a  characteristic  of  Russian 
housekeeping. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

ROUND  ABOUT  THE  COW  PATHS. 

THEY  used  to  say  of  Boston,  before  the  great  fire 
straightened  out  a  large  portion  of  that  Athenian  city, 
that  it  was  originally  laid  out  upon  the  paths  which  the 
cows  had  made  in  their  wanderings  about  the  pastures! 
That  may  or  may  not  be  true  of  Boston,  but  it  certainly 
appears  to  be  true  of  Moscow.  As  it  is  one  of  the  most 
picturesque,  so  it  is  one  of  the  most  bewildering  cities  in 
Europe  to  the  stranger.  We  engaged  early  in  our  stay,  as 
guide  and  courier,  an  individual  who  had  formerly  been 
in  the  employ  of  the  American  Consul,  Dr.  Bilhard.  We 
also  secured  for  use  during  our  stay  in  Moscow  two  car- 
riages; it  may  interest  the  reader  to  know  that,  notwith- 
standing the  enhanced  price  of  everything  at  this  time, 
we  paid  for  each  at  the  rate  of  twenty  dollars  per  day. 
Thus  armed  at  every  point,  we  prepared  to  see  the  city. 
Of  course,  as  every  other  traveller  has  placed  on  record, 
we  found  the  streets  of  Moscow  irregular,  narrow,  and  bad- 
ly paved.  The  buildings,  with  few  exceptions,  are  of  two 
stories.  On  every  hand  were  swarms  of  workmen,  and 
swarms  of  Russian  peasants,  strangers,  and  pilgrims  who, 
most  of  them,  had  journeyed  great  distances  to  be  present 
at  the  crowning  of  the  Great  White  Tsar.  What  Mecca 
is  to  the  Mohammedan,  what  Jerusalem  used  to  be,  and 
perhaps  still  is,  to  the  devout  Israelite,  that  Moscow  is  to 
the  devout  Russian.  It  is  the  capital  of  the  nation.  St. 
Petersburg,  called  into  being  by  the  mandate  of  the  auto- 
crat Peter  the  Great,  has  never  displaced  in  the  affec- 
tions of  the  patriotic  and  devout  Russian  the  sacred  city 

81 


82  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

which  is  known  as  "Mother"  Moscow.  To  the  Eussian 
it  represents  nationalism.  It  is  the  head  centre  of  the 
Holy  Church;  here  its  Tsars  have  been  crowned  for  centu- 
ries, here  they  have  been  buried.  Here  are  grouped  to- 
gether six  hundred  sacred  shrines,  among  the  most  beau- 
tiful in  the  world;  and  here  the  stream  of  modernism 
has  dashed  in  vain  against  the  traditions  and  memories 
of  the  past.  Miracles  have  been  performed  within  its 
walls;  the  inrushing  footsteps  of  savage  hordes  have  been 
turned  back  at  the  threshold  of  its  gates,  and  armies  that 
have  elsewhere  conquered  all  before  them  have  here  failed, 
or  won  their  victory  only  to  see  it  turned  into  defeat.  I 
suppose  that  every  one  interested  in  military  affairs,  as 
I  have  always  been,  naturally  reverts  in  thought  to  the 
experience  of  Napoleon  when  he  first  visits  Eussia,  or, 
indeed,  when  he  reads  of  it.  I  certainly  did;  and  so  one 
of  the  very  first  pilgrimages  I  made  in  the  ancient  city 
was  to  the  spot  where  Napoleon  caught  his  first  view  of 
it,  and  where  the  entire  French  army  is  said  to  have 
burst  out  in  one  exultant  shout,  "  Moscou!  Moscou!  "  All 
the  streets  through  which  we  drove  on  the  way  to  this 
celebrated  spot  were  in  the  hands  of  workmen  busy  erect- 
ing Venetian  masts  and  triumphal  columns.  I  noticed 
that  they  did  all  their  work  on  the  spot,  not  bringing  their 
poles  hewn  and  painted  and  ready  to  pop  into  holes  already 
dug.  They  hewed  and  planed  them  on  the  spot,  and 
erected  them  one  by  one  with  a  deliberate  earnestness  quite 
out  of  tune  with  the  nervous  haste  which  would  have  char- 
acterized such  preparations  in  one  of  our  own  cities.  In 
Eussia  time  seems  to  be  of  no  moment;  indeed,  the  nearer 
to  the  rising  sun  one  travels,  the  more  time  every  one 
appears  to  have  at  his  disposal.  There  were  enormous 
numbers  of  these  workmen,  but  not  one  was  in  a  hurry. 
The  crowning  of  the  Tsar  might  have  been  twelve  months 
off  rather  than  a  few  days,  so  deliberate  was  the  move- 
ment of  those  engaged  in  decorating.  The  nature  of  the 
buildings  in  Moscow  lends  itself  readily  to  the  erection  of 
temporary  decorations.  The  houses  in  the  more  preten- 
tious quarters  are  most  of  them  covered  with  stucco;  in  the 


a, 
S 
o 


HOUND  ABOUT  THE  COW  PATHS.       83 

poorer  quarters  they  are  of  wood.  Strips  of  narrow  lath 
were  nailed  to  the  walls,  forming  the'  designs  intended. 
To  these  strips  were  fastened  the  brackets  of  wire  into 
which  the  small  different-coloured  globes  were  set.  In 
these  globes  candles  were  placed  during  the  morning  of 
the  day  of  the  coronation  and  the  two  days  succeeding, 
for  use  at  night.  During  the  ceremonies  millions  of  these 
candles  must  have  been  used.  The  Venetian  masts  which 
lined  the  streets  at  regular  intervals  were  painted  in  black 
and  gold,  and  decorated,  at  a  height  convenient  to  the 
eyes,  with  the  arms  of  Moscow,  St.  George  and  the  Dragon, 
the  Eussian  Imperial  arms,  the  double-headed  eagle,  and 
the  significant  letters  "  N  "  and  "  A." 

It  was  on  this  drive  that  I  for  the  first  time  attended 
a  regular  service  of  the  Eussian  Church  at  the  Cathedral 
of  Our  Saviour.  I  believe  that  I  was  hemmed  in  by  the 
immense  crowd  for  not  less  than  four  weary  hours  listen- 
ing to  a  service  of  which  not  one  word  was  comprehensible 
to  me.  The  church,  however,  richly  repays  a  visit.  Viewed 
from  the  bridge  which  crosses  the  sluggish  Moskva  in  its 
vicinity,  the  Cathedral  of  Our  Saviour  is  indescribably  beau- 
tiful. I  know  of  no  temple  in  Europe  to  compare  with  it. 
It  appears  a  trifle  commercial  to  attempt  to  convey  an  im- 
pression of  any  of  these  buildings  by  their  money  value; 
but  as  this  one  has  been  built  in  the  present  century,  by 
Eussian  labour,  and  exclusively  of  Eussian  materials,  we 
get  a  fair  estimate  of  its  superb  extent  and  magnificent 
appearance  in  a  statement  of  the  cost,  which  is  put  down 
at  twelve  millions  of  dollars.  It  was  originally  intended 
to  erect  this  cathedral  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Sparrow 
Hill,  as  commemorating  the  retreat  of  the  French  army, 
but  the  ground  was  found  to  be  unsuitable,  and  in  1839 
the  present  site  was  chosen.  The  interior  is  richly  deco- 
rated with  gold  and  syenite  marble,  and  at  night  is  illumi- 
nated by  candles  running  around  the  lofty  cornice.  The 
pictures  on  the  ceilings  of  the  domes  of  the  several  cupolas 
are  costly  and  magnificent.  They  may  be  said  to  be  some- 
what grotesque,  containing  figures  of  Jehovah,  the  Old 
Testament  patriarchs,  and  Eussian  emperors  in  juxta- 


84  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

position,  which  a  close  reading  of  Eussian  history  does  not 
always  justify.  Of  these  pictures,  which  have  all  been 
painted  by  Eussian  artists,  those  in  the  central  dome  alone 
cost  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  On 
the  walls  of  the  galleries  and  in  other  parts  of  the  cathedral 
are  tablets  enumerating  the  officers  who  fought  and  fell 
in  the  endeavour  to  repulse  the  Napoleonic  invasion.  From 
without,  the  cathedral  is  massive  and  resplendent.  The 
cross  on  the  central  dome  is  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  the  dome  itself  and  the  four  sur- 
rounding cupolas  are  all  covered  with  pure  gold.  The 
effect  of  these  domes  surmounting  the  white  marble  of 
the  building  in  contrast  with  the  cobalt  blue  of  the  other 
portions  of  the  roof  can  be  safely  left  to  the  imagina- 
tion, for  it  is  difficult  to  describe  it  moderately.  From  this 
remarkable  building  we  drove  rapidly  to  Sparrow  Hill — 
from  the  church  built  to  commemorate  the  retreat  of 
Napoleon  to  the  spot  from  which  that  brilliant  genius 
of  the  art  of  war  first  looked  upon  the  Holy  City.  On  the 
14th  of  September,  1812,  Napoleon,  having  ridden  to  the 
spot  now  occupied  by  a  monument,  cried  out  to  his  sol- 
diers, "  All  that  is  yours!  "  Never  was  boast  more  idle. 

The  city  they  entered  was  empty  of  all  save  the  dissolute, 
the  priests,  and  the  liberated  prisoners,  who  had  been  set 
free  by  Eostopchine  and  instructed  to  fire  the  city  after 
the  entrance  of  the  French  Emperor.  How  well  they 
kept  their  bargain  history  records,  for  within  three  days 
from  the  French  occupation  Moscow  lay  in  smouldering 
ashes.  After  brief  but  ineffectual  attempts  to  obtain 
terms  of  peace,  Napoleon  turned  his  saddened  steps  toward 
France,  followed  by  the  broken  and  disorganized  remnant 
of  the  splendid  army  with  which  he  had  set  out  to  subdue 
the  Muscovite,  as  he  had  in  the  past  humbled  the  Italian, 
the  Austrian,  the  Turk,  and  the  Prussian.  On  this  spot 
the  greatest  military  disaster  recorded  in  history  occurred. 
From  Moscow  to  the  Berezina  the  snow  was  strewn  with 
the  bodies  of  French  soldiers,  and  at  the  frightful 
slaughter  which  occurred  during  the  crossing  of  that  fate- 
ful river  it  is  estimated  that  not  less  than  forty  thousand 


ROUND  ABOUT  THE  COW  PATHS.       85 

Frenchmen  perished.  On  Sparrow  Hill  the  Russians  have 
erected  a  monument  to  commemorate  the  tragic  event  of 
which  it  was  the  scene,  and  on  summer  evenings  they  are 
wont  to  walk  and  lounge  in  the  neighbourhood  and  to 
drink  their  tea  and  gossip.  A  writer  of  much  interest  in 
regard  to  all  things  Russian  has  thus  described  this  famous 
spot:  "  On  the  western  side  of  the  Moskva,  at  a  distance 
of  three  miles  from  the  barrier,  rises  a  hill,  or  a  succession 
of  hills,  of  no  great  height.  These  are  the  Sparrow  Hills, 
and  at  their  foot  flows  the  Moskva.  There  is  a  small  vil- 
lage on  the  ridge,  and  a  few  private  houses  of  gentlemen 
stand  on  either  side  of  the  village  and  look  down  over  the 
river  toward  the  city.  There  are  some  small  wooden  build- 
ings along  the  roadside  in  front  of  the  village,  and  these 
are  used  by  people  from  the  city-^-parties  of  pleasure  who 
come  up  to  the  Sparrow  Hills  to  enjoy  their  tea  or  dine 
and  look  out  from  the  veranda  over  their  sacred  and 
glittering  Moscow.  The  position,  the  broken  and  green 
and  grassy  slopes  with  trees  and  shrubs  at  intervals,  puts 
one  in  mind  of  Richmond  Hill,  London.  The  height 
from  the  water  to  the  houses  is  about  the  same  in  both; 
but  instead  of  running,  like  the  Thames,  in  a  straight  line 
across  the  wide  expanse  of  country  below,  the  Moskva 
comes  up  from  the  left  hand  with  a  circular  sweep,  passes 
along  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  then  descends  again  by  a 
similar  bend  to  the  right,  and  continues  in  sight  until 
it  is  concealed  by  the  houses  and  bridges  of  the  city  at  a 
distance  of  three  miles.  From  this  height  the  whole  of 
Moscow  lies  spread  out  before  you  like  a  map.  You  can 
see  every  part  of  it  to  its  extremities,  can  mark  every 
rise  and  fall  of  the  numerous  hills,  its  endless  pinnacles 
and  cupolas  glittering  in  the  sun,  its  towers,  its  bright- 
coloured  houses,  and  its  universal  gardens/' 

As  I  stood  there  and  looked  out  upon  the  spectacle 
before  me,  I  could  well  imagine  the  emotions  of  Napoleon 
and  his  soldiers  as  they  gazed  upon  it  after  their  terrific 
journey  through  frost  and  snow  and  blood.  Here,  at  last, 
was  the  reward  of  all  their  hardships.  Here,  surely,  was 
spoil  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting;  here  was  a 


86  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

conquest  great  enough  to  add  a  star  even  to  the  crown 
of  that  great  French  conqueror.  But  the  star  of  destiny 
had  begun  to  set,  the  tide  of  that  overwhelming  fortune 
which  had  prostrated  thrones  and  laid  ancient  dynasties 
humbly  at  his  feet  had  begun  to  ebb,  and  Napoleon  left 
Moscow  defeated  and  .broken.  Defeated,  as  he  claimed, 
by  the  severity  of  the  winter  and  all  its  horrors;  defeated, 
as  the  Russians  claim,  by  their  superior  military  prowess. 

From  the  Sparrow  Hills  we  drove  homeward  by  way  of 
the  Holy  Gate,  where  the  traveller,  no  matter  what  his 
faith  may  be,  is  compelled  by  usage  to  remove  his  hat  as 
he  passes  through.  It  is  said  that  when  Napoleon  rode 
through  this  gate  he  was  told  of  this  custom,  but  haughtily 
declined  to  uncover,  whereupon  a  providential  gust  of 
wind  did  for  him  what  he  had  refused  to  do  for  himself, 
and  he  passed  through  the  sacred  portals  bareheaded. 

Upon  our  return  we  had  only  sufficient  time  to  effect 
the  necessary  change  of  dress  and  hasten  away  to  the  palace 
of  the  Civil  Governor  of  Moscow,  to  attend  the  reception 
given  by  the  Grand  Duke  Serge  to  all  connected  with  the 
foreign  embassies  and  legations  then  in  the  city  for  the 
purpose  of  being  present  at  the  coronation  ceremonies. 
The  reception  was  purely  formal,  and  such  as  might  have 
occurred  in  any  official  circle,  and  served  but  to  introduce 
me  to  the  invariable  and  exquisite  polish  of  manner  which 
everywhere  characterizes  the  high-born  Russian.  The 
presentations  were  made  by  the  Grand  Duke's  chamber- 
lain, and  the  entire  function  lasted  but  a  little  over  an 
hour. 

I  was  glad  to  meet  here  again  an  old  friend,  Admiral 
Selfridge,  of  the  United  States  Navy,  who  had  been  or- 
dered to  Moscow  to  attend  the  coronation  as  our  special 
ambassador,  representing  the  naval  forces  of  our  Govern- 
ment. The  admiral's  position  is  not  only  one  of  the  high- 
est in  our  navy,  but  is  unique  in  that  his  official  rank  and 
position  are  the  same  as  those  held  formerly  by  his  father. 
There  is  no  parallel  case  to  this  either  in  our  army  or  navy, 
and,  more  remarkable  still,  both  men  are  still  living  to 
enjoy  their  well-merited  distinction,  and,  I  trust,  will  con- 


BOUND  ABOUT  THE  COW  PATHS.       87 

tinue  to  do  so  for  many  years  to  come.  I  also  met  at  this 
function  the  British  Ambassador,  Sir  Nicholas  O'Connor, 
Count  Yamagata  of  Japan,  and  many  other  dignitaries. 
Li  Hung  Chang,  the  Grand  Old  Man  of  China,  had  not 
yet  arrived. 

The  following  day,  Monday,  I  was  kept  busy  paying 
calls  of  ceremony.  Among  those  called  upon  were  the 
Grand  Dukes  Serge,  Dimitri  Constantinovitch,  Mikalovitch, 
Vladimir  Alexandrovitch,  Alexis  Alexandrovitch,  and  Con- 
stantine  Constantinovitch;  Prince  Dolgorouki  and  Prince 
Jules  Ourroussow.  This  was  not  so  formidable  a  task  as  it 
sounds,  for  all  that  is  required  of  one  in  fulfilling  this 
social  obligation  is  to  inscribe  his  name  in  the  register 
which  is  kept  at  the  door  of  all  great  houses  for  that 
purpose. 

On  Monday  a  function  corresponding  to  that  of  the 
previous  day  was  held  by  the  Grand  Duchess  Serge  for  the 
ladies  accompanying  the  different  foreign  embassies.  My 
mother,  who  attended  this,  tells  me  that  the  Grand  Duchess 
Serge  was  peculiarly  gracious  in  her  manner. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  I  drove  to  the 
railway  station  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  Tsar  arrive 
from  St.  Petersburg,  but  the  crowd  about  the  station  was 
so  enormous  that  I  only  caught  a  most  distant  view  of  him 
as  he  was  being  whisked  away  to  his  temporary  abiding 
place  in  the  Petrovski  Palace. 

The  evening,  however,  afforded  a  sufficiently  delight- 
ful form  of  enjoyment  to  atone  for  the  mere  officialism  of 
the  day.  I  dined  with  the  officers  of  the  guard  at  the 
"  Yard  "  (pronounced  yar).  The  Yard  has  scarcely  an 
equivalent  in  America  or  England.  It  is  situated  in  the 
Petrovski  Park,  and  unites  the  functions  of  a  restaurant 
wifh  those  of  a  concert  hall  and  a  variety  stage,  the  pecul- 
iarity being  that  the  performance  proceeds  during  dinner. 
If  you  could  add  Delmonico's  to  Koster  and  Bial's,  or 
Frascati's  to  the  Empire,  you  would  pretty  closely  assimi- 
late the  Yard.  Only  you  would  still  have  to  add  the  Kus- 
sian  features  and  hosts,  which  were  upon  this  occasion  the 
chief  charm  of  the  entertainment.  The  front  of  the 
7 


88  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Yard  is  entirely  of  glass;  the  spacious  dining-room  is 
elaborately  decorated,  and  was  adorned,  I  imagine  for 
this  occasion,  with  oleanders  and  palms.  At  one  end  is 
the  stage.  The  variety  performers,  who  were  all  distinctly 
good,  were  chiefly  Americans  and  English.  They  were 
treated  munificently  by  the  Eussian  officers,  who  showered 
gifts  upon  them.  I  have  been  told  by  some  of  these  artists 
that  there  is  no  place  in  the  world  where  a  favourite  is  so 
generously  treated  as  in  St.  Petersburg  or  Moscow.  The 
only  distinctively  Eussian  feature  of  the  entertainment 
was  a  gipsy  dance.  This  is  as  popular  in  Eussia  as 
the  dance  of  the  Nautch  girl  in  India,  the  Geisha  girl 
in  the  Farther  East,  or  the  ubiquitous  skirt  dancer  in 
America. 

I  had  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  grace  and  beauty  of  the 
gipsy  dancers — the  "  Tsiganes,"  as  they  are  called — but 
I  must  confess  that  those  that  I  saw  were  neither  fascinat- 
ing from  the  standpoint  of  beauty  nor  bewitching  from 
the  standpoint  of  grace.  I  believe  it  is  considered  quite 
the  thing  for  the  jeunesse  doree  of  the  capital  to  engage 
these  gipsy  dancers  to  assist  at  such  entertainments;  but 
to  me  they  were  a  distinct  disappointment.  They  wear 
short  skirts  and  jackets  of  bright  colours,  knee  boots  of 
red,  yellow,  green,  or  bronze,  and  bright-coloured  hand- 
kerchiefs about  their  heads  and  necks.  They  sing  and 
dance  to  wild  Tartar  music,  swaying  their  bodies  as  they 
do  so.  The  chief  characteristic  of  the  dance  is  that  it 
proceeds  in  a  constantly  increasing  ratio  of  noise  and  mo- 
tion until  it  reaches  the  climax  of  a  final  crash.  They 
were  very  popular  with  our  hosts,  who  applauded  vocifer- 
ously and  bestowed  much  largess  upon  them.  The  dinner 
we  had  upon  this  occasion  was  mainly  of  French  cooking, 
and  everything  was  upon  a  lavish  scale.  Certainly,  Eus- 
sian hospitality  is  of  a  free  and  generous  type.  Expense 
is  never  spared  in  the  entertainment  of  a  guest  in  the  ter- 
ritory of  the  Tsar;  and  one  has  the  delightful  feeling  when 
entertained  in  Eussia  that  he  is  conferring  as  well  as  re- 
ceiving a  favour.  This,  I  take  it,  is  the  acme  of  hospitality. 
It  was  four  o'clock  as  I  drove  home  from  the  Yard,  and  as 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Basil,  Moscow. 


ROUND  ABOUT  THE  COW  PATHS.       89 

the  silver  bells  of  Moscow  announced  the  hour  in  the  soft 
light  of  the  opening  day,  I  remembered  that  it  was  the  birth- 
day of  the  Emperor,  and  before  turning  in  for  a  few  hours' 
rest,  wished  him  from  afar  "many  happy  returns  of  the 
day/' 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RAIN  AND   ETIQUETTE. 

IT  has  always  proved  a  good  rule  with  me  to  do  in  Rome 
as  the  Romans  do.  And  I  certainly  never  found  the  rule 
to  work  more  satisfactorily  than  in  Moscow.  A  little  de- 
liberation, a  bit  of  careful  forethought,  and  a  due  regard  for 
the  minute  directions  which  had  been  laid  down  by  the 
officials  in  charge  of  the  guests  at  the  coronation  ceremonies, 
saved  us,  I  have  no  doubt,  a  world  of  trouble.  During 
the  few  days  immediately  preceding  the  entree  of  the  Em- 
peror into  his  sacred  capital  it  rained  hard  enough  to  per- 
suade one  almost  that  the  heavens,  too,  were  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  great  event,  emptying  themselves  of  all  the 
spare  rain  they  had  on  hand.  This  impression  was  deep- 
ened by  the  splendid  weather  which  was  reserved  for  the 
ceremonies  and  for  the  days  immediately  following.  They 
speak  of  the  Queen's  weather  in  England,  meaning  there- 
by fair  weather,  and  it  is  an  observable  fact  that  it  is  almost 
invariably  fine  when  the  Queen  honours  London  with  a 
visit.  I  am  sure  that  they  have  Tsar's  weather  in  Mos- 
cow, for  no  sooner  did  the  young  Emperor  draw  near  the 
capital  where  he  was  to  be  crowned,  than  the  rain  abated, 
the  sun  shone  forth,  and  all  Nature  assumed  a  smiling 
aspect,  which  augured  well  for  the  reign  just  about  to 
receive  the  indorsement  of  a  coronation  in  the  most  sacred 
city  of  Russia. 

During  the  days  immediately  preceding  the  Tsar's 
solemn  entry  we  concerned  ourselves  with  getting  set- 
tled in  our  apartments,  securing  our  courier  and  carriages, 
and  paying  such  visits  of  ceremony  as  were  incumbent 

90 


EAIN  AND  ETIQUETTE.  91 

upon  us.  Besides  this  we  took  pains  to  inform  ourselves 
as  to  the  exact  requirements  of  court  etiquette  in  the  dif- 
ferent functions  to  which  we  had  been,  or  knew  we  were 
to  be  invited.  First  of  all  we  called  upon  the  Gentlemen 
of  the  Chamber  to  make  inquiries  about  the  course  to  be 
observed  in  the  matter  of  dress  and  other  details.  They 
were  most  polite  and  thorough,  and  the  brief  visit  we  paid 
them  persuaded  us  that,  with  the  aid  of  a  little  common 
sense,  we  should  be  able  to  avoid  the  rocks  and  shallows 
which  usually  bring  novices  to  grief.  The  names  of  these 
Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber  were  Nicholas  von  Bunting, 
Basil  de  Verechagine,  and  Lubounier  Dinisha.  I  was 
interested  to  see  to  what  perfection  of  detail  these  court 
functions  are  reduced  in  the  Old  World.  Nothing  was  left 
to  the  imagination,  everything  was  provided  for.  And  the 
hands  of  the  Tsar  were  as  firmly  bound  by  a  cut-and-dried 
pre-arrangement  of  detail  as  were  those  of  the  most  incon- 
spicuous visitor  to  the  coronation.  Not  only  was  the 
position  fixed  of  every  person  who  was  at  all  entitled  to 
consideration,  but  the  very  costumes  to  be  worn  at  the 
different  receptions  and  ceremonials  were  decided  for  one. 
It  is,  I  imagine,  this  autocratic  supervision  of  individuals 
in  the  older  world  upon  such  occasions  as  the  one  under 
consideration  that  makes  it  possible  for  European  coun- 
tries to  far  surpass  us  in  the  display  they  make  at  any 
state  or  official  assemblage.  I  have  beside  me,  as  I  write, 
a  card  giving  explicit  instructions  for  the  dresses  to  be 
worn  by  ladies  at  more  than  a  couple  of  dozen  functions, 
all  under  the  direction  of  the  Arch  Grand  Master  of  Cere- 
monies. As  for  men,  it  was  either  court  dress  or  uniform. 
The  former,  of  course,  was  fixed  within  certain  and  im- 
movable limits,  and  the  latter  as  elaborate  as  the  individ- 
ual's service  and  rank  permitted.  During  this  round  of 
investigation  I  had  occasion  to  visit  several  of  the  best 
hotels;  and  I  can,  without  reservation,  testify  to  the  ad- 
mirable character  of  Eussian  hostelries.  They  are  large 
and  luxuriously  furnished,  have  splendid  sleeping  apart- 
ments, good  French  cooking,  and  are  in  every  way  quite 
abreast  of  the  age,  comparing  favourably  with  the  hotels 


92  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

of  any  other  European  country.  During  even  a  short  call 
at  a  Russian  hotel  or  private  residence  overcoats  are  in- 
variably removed  and  left  in  charge  of  servants  in  the 
hall.  In  the  hotels  the  domestic  work  is  all  in  charge  of 
men,  the  chambermaid  nuisance  thus  being  done  away 
with.  The  rates  at  the  best  hotels  are  about  five  dollars 
a  day  for  ordinary  accommodation.  Of  course,  one  look- 
ing for  extra  luxuries  in  Russia  will  have  to  pay  for  them 
there  as  elsewhere.  Although  I  have  mentioned  it  previ- 
ously, I  find,  upon  referring  to  my  notebook,  that  it  was 
upon  this  day,  Tuesday  the  19th,  that  we  bargained  with 
a  Polish  individual,  Count  Bobjinski,  for  the  use  of  two 
carriages  during  our  stay  in  Moscow.  The  carriages  were 
in  all  ways  satisfactory,  but  before  we  got  through  with 
the  Count  we  found  that  it  is  quite  as  possible  for  an 
aristocrat  to  be  tricky  as  it  is  for  the  veriest  democrat  in 
the  world.  During  our  use  of  his  carriages  he  was  to 
furnish  us  with  extra  horses  if  either  of  those  in  use  went 
lame.  "Well,  of  course  one  of  them  did  go  lame;  but  the 
Count  was  not  forthcoming  with  an  extra  horse,  and  upon 
an  occasion  when  we  especially  needed  both  carriages  we 
found  that  he  had  let  one  of  them  over  our  heads  for  the 
day  without  making  any  provision  for  us.  It  was  a  nasty 
bit  of  trickery,  which  only  served  as  a  foil  for  the  other- 
wise splendid  treatment  which  we  received  during  our 
stay. 

During  the  rambles  which  we  made  on  the  19th  and 
20th  we  had  ample  opportunity  to  observe  those  features 
of  every  Russian  city,  the  isvoschiks  and  the  gorodovoys. 
During  the  festivities  of  the  coronation  there  were  within 
Moscow  sixty-three  thousand  policemen,  not  counting  the 
large  number  of  troops  that  practically  did  police  duty. 
It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  in  the  matter  of  discipline 
the  Russian  police  are  as  good  as  any  in  the  world.  In  the 
streets  of  Moscow  the  police  are  supreme.  The  isvoschiks 
live  in  constant  and  unending  dread  of  them.  It  is  but 
necessary  for  a  policeman  to  glance  angrily  at  an  isvoschik 
to  send  the  latter  into  a  state  bordering  on  collapse. 

It  was  during  our  drives  about  the  city  on  these  two 


The  holy  or  Redeemer's  gate  of  the  Kremlin. 


RAIN  AND  ETIQUETTE.  93 

days  that  we  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  Kremlin,  and  over- 
came that  feeling  of  comparative  disappointment  with 
which  I  believe  almost  every  one  gazes  for  the  first  time 
upon  that  sacred  pile.  The  Kremlin,  of  course,  stands 
quite  by  itself,  and  defies  comparison  with  any  other  group 
of  buildings  in  the  world.  Its  arrangement  is  Oriental — 
that  is,  in  the  massing  together  of  a  large  number  of  im- 
portant buildings  within  very  prescribed  and  narrow 
limits.  Let  me  erase  from  the  reader's  mind  a  mistake 
under  which  I  had  always  rested  until  I  visited  Moscow — 
namely,  that  the  Kremlin  is  a  single  magnificent  building, 
famous  for  a  variety  of  reasons.  This  is  not  so.  The 
Kremlin,  to  speak  strictly,  is  a  wall,  or  rampart,  about  one 
third  of  a  mile  in  circumference,  which  surrounds  and 
incloses  a  collection  of  churches^  palaces,  and  public  build- 
ings, among  the  most  costly  and  sacred  in  all  Russia. 
This  wall  is  pierced  by  five  gates,  which  are  all  of  more  or 
less  traditional  significance  to  the  devout  and  patriotic 
among  the  Eussians.  The  first  and  chief  gate  is  the  Spaski 
Vorota,  or  Gate  of  the  Redeemer;  next  comes  the  Mkolsky, 
or  Nicholas  Gate;  then  the  Troitski,  or  Trinity  Gate;  while 
the  last  two,  of  less  significance,  are  the  Borovitski  and 
the  Tainitski,  or  Prison  Gate.  The  principal  one  of  these, 
the  Holy  Gate,  is,  as  I  have  already  indicated,  of  the  very 
highest  sanctity  in  Russian  eyes.  Over  it  is  a  golden  ikon 
of  the  Saviour,  which  is  held  in  peculiar  veneration  by  all 
the  faithful.  It  is  supposed  to  have  withstood  any  number 
of  sacrilegious  attempts  to  displace  it,  and  is  worshipped 
by  the  Russians  with  a  devotion  as  sincere  as  it  is  universal. 
Sentries  are  constantly  on  duty  to  see  that  strangers  going 
through  this  gate  uncover;  here  the  highest  ecclesiastical 
dignitaries,  the  Emperor  and  the  noble,  as  gladly  do  rever- 
ence as  the  humblest  peasant  that  comes  to  Moscow  on  in- 
frequent and  memorable  pilgrimages. 

The  Kremlin  stands  almost  in  the  centre  of  Moscow, 
as  any  one  may  see  by  a  glance  at  the  plan  of  that  city, 
which,  by  the  way,  looks  as  much  like  a  spider's  web  as 
anything  one  can  suggest.  The  moat,  which  originally 
surrounded  the  Kremlin,  has  been  turned  into  a  garden, 


94:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

and  now  lies  at  the  base  of  the  grim  wall  like  a  gay  fringe 
upon  a  sombre  garment.  The  glories  of  the  Kremlin  have 
been  frequently  described,  and  by  able  pens;  but  I  should 
do  injustice  to  my  own  most  vivid  recollections  if  I  failed  to 
record  the  splendid  and  imperishable  impression  made 
upon  me  by  a  view  from  the  summit  of  the  Tower  of  Ivan 
Veliki.  This  tower  stands  within  the  Kremlin,  and  con- 
tains a  chime  of  forty  bells,  the  heaviest  of  which  weighs 
some  sixty  tons.  The  smallest  of  these  bells  are  cast  of 
pure  silver,  and  the  sound  issuing  from  them  is  peculiarly 
liquid  and  sweet.  The  bells  of  Moscow  are  almost  as  cele- 
brated as  those  of  Newport,  but,  like  the  latter,  they  struck 
me  as  being  sometimes  a  trifle  loud.  In  fact,  when  the 
Eussians  ring,  they  ring  for  all  they  are  worth,  and  their 
chiming  quite  as  often  as  not  reminded  me  of  Ophelia's 
lament  over  Hamlet, 

Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh. 

Near  our  house  there  were  two  churches,  and  when, 
after  some  late  function,  we  were  inclined  to  take  a  bit  of 
extra  sleep  in  the  morning,  their  bells  were  definitely  re- 
solved that  we  should  not;  and  they  usually  had  their  way. 
But  the  view  from  the  summit  of  Ivan — ah,  that  was  a 
coup  d'ceil  well-nigh  matchless!  I  have  often  looked  upon 
the  beauties  which  may  be  seen  from  the  Washington 
Monument.  I  have  surveyed  the  splendid  panorama  spread 
before  one  from  the  top  of  some  high  building  in  lower 
New  York;  I  have  looked  over  the  might  and  gloom  of 
London  from  the  summit  of  St.  Paul's;  I  have  seen  the 
fairy  spectacle  Paris  presents  from  the  Eiffel  Tower,  but 
I  never  saw  anything  so  bewitchingly  beautiful  as  the 
view  of  Moscow  from  the  Tower  of  Ivan.  It  was  as  if  a 
rainbow  had  been  broken  up  by  the  hand  of  some  god 
and  thrown  down  in  splendid  and  yet  symmetric  confusion, 
the  whole  being  sprinkled  with  gems  of  some  genie  of 
the  East.  At  the  very  foot  of  the  tower  was  the  un- 
rivalled collection  of  magnificent  buildings  within  the 
wall  of  the  Kremlin,  huddled  together  with  an  opulent 
disregard  of  wealth,  in  a  confusion  of  beauty.  Beyond, 


EAIN  AND  ETIQUETTE.  95 

the  city  of  Moscow — its  squares,  its  brilliant  thoroughfares, 
seen  through  the  light  of  an  early  summer's  day — looked 
like  a  glittering  stage  spectacle  viewed  through  a  gauze, 
with  different-coloured  lights  thrown  on  the  different  ob- 
jects; only  that  no  stage  spectacle  was  ever  so  over- 
whelming or  quite  so  beautiful.  Think  of  it — six  hundred 
churches  with  glittering,  bejewelled  roofs,  all  of  different 
style;  yonder  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  there  the  Eed  Gate 
with  its  figure  of  Fame;  just  at  hand  the  splendid  pile  of 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  contrasting  in  severe  but  fine  simplicity 
with  the  Orientalism  all  about  it.  And  beyond  are  the  two 
green  towers  with  their  golden  crosses  which  surmount 
the  Chapel  of  the  Mother  of  Iberia;  still  farther  away, 
and  glistening  in  the  sun  like  the  helmets  of  a  group  of 
mighty  giants,  are  the  five  cupolas  of  the  Cathedral  of 
Our  Saviour;  and  St.  Basil,  more  beautiful  than  a  poet's 
dream — the  beauty  of  which  cost  the  architect  his  eyes, 
for  when  Ivan  the  Terrible  first  saw  its  glory  he  resolved 
that  its  like  should  not  be  built  again,  and  so  blinded  the 
architect.  In  the  distance  stands  the  Petrovski  Palace, 
showing  brightly  with  its  white  and  red  against  the  sur- 
rounding landscape,  and  behind  it  its  many-pinnacled  Im- 
perial Chapel,  displaying  its  dark-green  cupolas  and  pin- 
nacles against  a  sky  just  now  as  blue  as  any  the  languor  of 
Southern  seas  may  ever  woo;  and  through  it  all  the  Moskva 
threads  its  silent  way  to  the  plains  beyond,  till  at  last 
it  is  lost  to  sight,  a  single  gleam  of  silver  in  a  magnificent 
tangle  of  green.  Do  I  exaggerate?  Stand  where  I  stood 
upon  that  summer's  morning,  and  then  tell  me  whether 
I  have  not  fallen  short,  far  short,  of  the  scene  spread 
before  you? 

It  was,  if  my  memory  serves  me  rightly,  upon  this  visit 
to  the  Palace  of  the  Kremlin  that  I  first  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  Prince  Dolgorouki,  who  is  the  Arch  Grand 
Master  of  Ceremonies,  and  who  figured  through  all  the 
ceremonies  of  the  coronation  as  supreme  in  control.  The 
Prince  is  an  exceedingly  polished  gentleman,  and  with 
his  swarthy  complexion  and  silver  hair  presents  a  most 
striking  and  handsome  appearance.  In  his  hands  are  all 


96  IN  JOYFUL  KUSSIA. 

the  details  of  ceremony  connected  with  the  Court  of  the 
Tsar,  and  if  easy  manner  and  courteous  bearing  to  all  be 
the  essentials  of  such  a  position,  certainly  the  Prince  is 
well  placed.  Tuesday,  the  20th  of  May,  the  day  before  the 
solemn  entry  of  the  Tsar  into  Moscow,  was  used  in  about 
the  same  way  as  the  previous  day  had  been.  We  made  our- 
selves better  acquainted  with  Moscow  and  all  there  was  to 
be  seen  within  it.  On  the  afternoon  of  this  day  a  pleasant 
diversion  was  presented  by  a  serenade  offered  by  all  the 
musical  societies  of  Moscow  to  the  Emperor,  which  was 
given  outside  the  Petrovski  Palace.  In  the  afternoon,  also, 
the  Dowager  Empress  arrived  to  take  part  in  the  coronation. 
I  was  pleased  to  notice  how  warm  a  welcome  this  gracious 
lady  received,  not  only  when  she  arrived  in  Moscow,  but 
whenever  she  was  seen  by  the  public  during  the  various 
functions.  Not  even  the  Emperor  himself  was  the  recipient 
of  warmer  popular  favours.  The  Dowager  Empress  is 
strikingly  like  the  Princess  of  Wales,  except  that  now  her 
face  wears  an  invariable  expression  of  sadness,  which  that 
of  the  English  Princess  has  begun  to  lose.  I  could  not 
help  reflecting  how  in  the  very  midst  of  life  she  is  called 
upon  to  retire  into  the  background  by  that  imperious 
Master  before  whose  wand  even  Tsars  must  bend.  It  is  such 
thoughts  as  these  that  serve  to  brush  away  the  cobwebby 
thing  called  pomp  and  majesty,  and  to  show  us  all  on  what 
a  complete  level  we  stand  in  the  court  of  Death.  Before 
that  Mighty  Monarch  we  all  are  commoners.  It  seemed 
but  yesterday  that  the  Emperor  Alexander  was  on  the 
throne;  and  now  his  stricken  widow  came  as  in  duty 
bound  to  be  present  as  her  son  took  the  seat  left  vacant 
by  the  death  of  his  father.  It  is  a  pleasant  and  a  consol- 
ing thought  that  behind  all  the  purple  of  royalty,  and  be- 
neath the  imperial  crown,  the  heart  of  a  loving  son  beats 
in  warmest  sympathy  for  the  solitary  mother  whose  chief 
comfort  he  is.  Thus  does  the  one  touch  of  Nature,  not 
excepting  emperors  and  kings,  make  the  whole  world  kin. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

THEN"   THE   TSAR   CAME. 

I  SUPPOSE  that  in  the  medieval  ages,  when  knights  and 
crusaders,  gaily  caparisoned  horses  and  mail-clad  warriors 
abounded  on  every  hand;  or  in, the  old  Eoman  days,  when 
sweeping  togas  contrasted  with  golden  armour,  glittering 
shields,  and  the  decorated  helmets  of  the  Praetorian 
Guards;  or  in  those  days  when  the  gallant  Harry  the  Fifth 
made  uproarious  war  on  France,  and  ended  by  carrying 
off  the  gentle  Katharine;  or  when  bluff  King  Hal  and 
Frangois  Premier  made  peace  upon  the  Field  of  the  Cloth 
of  Gold — I  suppose  that  in  those  days  they  had  splendid 
spectacles;  sights  to  make  men  cry  out  with  wonder  and 
surprise;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  any  ancient  spectacle 
ever  exceeded  the  entry  of  Nicholas  II  into  the  ancient 
capital  of  Moscow,  except,  perhaps,  the  magnificent  scene 
at  Alexandria,  when  Antony  and  Cleopatra  sat  in  sensuous 
abandon  and  gazed  upon  the  glories  of  Rome  and  Egypt 
linked.  From  every  corner  of  the  Russian  Empire  sub- 
sidiary princes,  covered  with  gold  and  gems  and  sweeping 
draperies  of  texture  so  rich  as  to  put  to  the  blush  the  weav- 
ing of  many  a  European  loom,  had  gathered  to  swell  the 
mighty  train.  Every  European  crown  was  represented, 
every  petty  principality,  every  republic.  And  all  had  come 
to  the  crowning  of  the  Tsar,  prepared  to  make  a  brave  dis- 
play to  show  that  they  honoured  the  occasion. 

The  cortege  was  arranged  at  or  near  the  Petrovski 
Palace,  where  the  Emperor  had  spent  his  time  since  his 
arrival  in  Moscow.  Early  in  the  morning  the  firing  of 
nine  guns  and  the  ringing  of  the  bells  on  the  Cathedral  of 

97 


98  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

the  Assumption  told  all  who  were  to  take  part  in  the 
ceremonial,  either  actively  in  the  procession  or  as  passive 
spectators,  that  they  had  better  be  up  and  stirring.  Then 
in  every  direction  might  be  seen  a  stream  of  splendidly 
caparisoned  horses,  carriages  decorated  with  royal  and  im- 
perial arms,  bodies  of  troops  in  spotless  and  brilliant  uni- 
forms, all  hastening  to  the  one  objective  point — the  Petrov- 
ski  Palace.  The  morning  was  beautiful.  There  had  been 
overnight  a  slight  shower  of  rain — just  enough  to  lay  the 
dust;  a  gentle  breeze  was  blowing,  and  the  sun  lit  up  the 
scene  with  a  brilliance  which  brought  out  every  detail 
of  the  magnificent  spectacle  that  had  been  prepared. 

The  procession  must  leave  the  palace  and  make  its  way 
past  the  railway  station,  along  the  Tverskaya,  past  the 
palace  of  the  Grand  Duke  Serge,  the  Civil  Governor  of 
Moscow,  and  the  Chapel  of  the  Sacred  Mother  of  Iberia, 
and  so  on  to  the  Kremlin.  There  were  two  points  of 
supreme  advantage  from  which  to  witness  this,  the  gala 
cortege  of  the  nineteenth  century:  one  at  or  near  the 
station,  which  the  procession  must  pass  on  its  way  to  the 
palace;  and  the  other  at  the  palace  of  the  Grand  Duke 
Serge,  which  may  be  spoken  of  as  the  central  point  of  the 
display.  I  had  arranged  to  drive  to  the  station,  see  the 
cortege  pass  that  point,  and  then  by  a  detour  reach  my 
place  in  the  pavilion  that  had  been  erected  in  the  square 
facing  the  Grand  Duke  Serge's  palace.  I  found,  by  com- 
paring notes  with  others  afterward,  that  I  could  not  have 
hit  upon  a  better  plan  for  viewing  the  spectacle  in  its  en- 
tirety. 

Of  course  the  procession  was  a  bit  late  in  starting.  I 
suppose  none  ever  did,  or  ever  will,  start  quite  on  time. 
But  after  waiting  patiently  for  a  little  time  three  guns 
were  heard  in  quick  succession,  announcing  that  Nicholas 
had  mounted  his  snow-white  horse  and,  attended  by  his 
liegemen  from  all  his  mighty  Empire,  was  about  to  enter 
in  state  the  Holy  City  of  which  he  is  the  supreme  ruler. 
From  the  station  I  could  look  down  the  wide  boulevard 
that  stretches  between  this  building  and  the  Petrovski 
Palace,  and  see  the  procession  approaching  long  before  it 


T 


in  m m  n    o  n  « 


Chapel  of  the  Iberian  Mother  of,  Gpd. 


THEN  THE  TSAR  CAME.  99 

came  abreast  of  me.  And  now  all  was  excitement,  as  it 
is  at  a  race  meeting  when  the  word  passes,  "  They're  off! 
they're  off! "  First  came  a  body  of  gendarmes  under  the 
control  of  the  chief  of  police,  followed  by  the  splendid 
bodyguard  of  the  Emperor.  Then  came  a  squadron  of 
those  wild  and  fearless  soldiers  of  whom  one  hears  so  con- 
stantly in  Kussia — the  Cossacks  of  the  Guard.  These  men, 
with  their  swarthy  faces,  black  hair,  and  piercing  eyes, 
made  a  fine  appearance  as  they  passed.  Their  uniform 
consists  of  a  scarlet  tunic  with  silver  facings  and  broad 
silver  epaulettes  and  blue  breeches  tucked  into  knee-boots 
of  black  leather.  They  wear  small  round  caps  of  black 
astrachan  with  scarlet  tops,  faced  with  the  arms  of  Russia. 
These  formed  a  fitting  vanguard  for  the  splendid  body  of 
Asiatic  princes  which  followed — a  body  of  men  as  various 
in  face  and  figure  as  they  were  brilliant  in  garb,  and  dis- 
playing by  their  differences  the  extent  of  the  victories  won 
by  the  arms  of  Eussia  through  all  the  mighty  wastes  of 
central  Asia. 

Following  these  were  the  representatives  of  the  various 
Cossack  populations  which  acknowledge  the  sceptre  of  the 
Tsar,  and  behind  them  representatives  of  the  nobility  of 
Moscow,  led  by  their  marshal.  Following  this  brave  dis- 
play of  horsemen  came  a  troop  of  court  footmen  and  court 
couriers — half  of  them  white  and  half  of  them  coal-black 
Africans — all  in  gorgeous  uniforms;  then  a  troop  of  the 
imperial  huntsmen,  led  by  the  Master  of  the  Hunt,  an 
official  equivalent  to  the  Lord  High  Falconer  in  England. 
All  these  officials  were  apparelled  in  uniforms  resplendent 
with  colour,  gold  embroideries,  and  glistening  orders. 

And  now  the  line  of  horsemen  was  broken  for  the 
introduction  of  some  magnificent  vehicles,  bearing  the  high 
officials  having  in  charge  the  different  ceremonies  of  the 
coronation.  First  of  these  were  the  two  Grand  Masters  of 
Ceremonies;  and  then  immediately  following  was  Prince 
Dolgorouki,  the  Arch  Grand  Master  of  the  Court,  in  a 
splendid  court  carriage  drawn  by  six  white  horses,  and 
riding  in  solitary  state.  I  should  have  noticed,  in  order 
to  be  altogether  faithful  in  my  narrative,  that  an  imperial 


100  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

band  preceded  the  huntsmen,  led  by  the  chief  of  the  band 
on  horseback.  After  Prince  Dolgorouki  came  twenty-four 
Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber,  and  then  twelve  Chamberlains. 
Following  these,  and  in  the  order  named,  were  four  digni- 
taries of  the  foreign  courts;  the  Marshal  of  the  Court  with 
his  insignia  of  office;  members  of  the  council  of  the  Em- 
pire, their  Grand  Marshal,  bearing  his  insignia  of  office, 
being  seated  in  a  magnificent  state  phaeton  worthy  of  a 
king.  Then  followed  a  squadron  of  the  Cavalier  Guard,  of 
which  her  Imperial  Majesty,  the  Dowager  Empress,  is  the 
Honorary  Colonel;  and  a  squadron  of  the  Gardes  a  Cheval. 
These  are  supposedly  the  two  crack  regiments  of  the  Bus- 
sian  army — though,  for  my  part,  I  preferred  the  light  and 
dashing  Hussars,  who,  I  thought,  made  a  much  more  effect- 
ive and  taking  appearance,  judged  from  a  military  point 
of  view. 

The  Gardes  a  Cheval  correspond  to  the  Life  Guards  of 
the  English  army.  They  are  a  splendid  body  of  men,  but 
serve  more  for  purposes  of  display  about  the  court  than 
for  really  effective  field  service.  They  are  recruited  from 
the  flower  of  the  Eussian  population,  wealth  being  a  sine 
qua  non  of  admission  to  their  ranks.  Their  uniform, 
which  is  beautifully  bright,  consists  of  a  white  tunic 
trimmed  with  gold  braid  laid  on  scarlet,  a  golden  cuirass, 
and  a  massive  golden  helmet  surmounted  by  the  Imperial 
Eagle  in  gold.  On  the  front  of  the  helmet  is  a  white  star 
with  a  blue  centre,  and  the  uniform  is  completed  by  white 
gauntlets,  blue  breeches  tucked  into  black  boots,  and  a 
cavalry  sabre.  The  saddle-cloth  is  dark  blue  edged  with 
scarlet  and  gold,  and  bears  in  each  corner  a  star  similar 
to  that  worn  upon  the  helmet.  The  uniform  of  the 
Cavalier  Guards  is  very  similar.  There  is  more  white  in 
the  facings,  and  scarcely  any  scarlet  in  the  body  of  the 
dress.  The  helmet  is  topped  with  a  silver  eagle  instead  of 
a  gold  one,  the  epaulettes  are  of  silver,  and  the  saddle-cloth 
is  scarlet  edged  with  blue  and  white.  Of  course,  the  dis- 
play made  by  such  bodies  of  men  is  imposing  in  the  last 
degree.  It  was  to  these  two  regiments  that  the  place  of 
honour,  immediately  preceding  his  Majesty  the  Emperor, 


THEN  THE  TSAR  CAMjJ.'  /,   j     ^ 

was  accorded.  And  now  the  supreme  moment  in  the  pro- 
cession had  arrived.  A  hush  fell  over  all.  I  was  reminded 
— I  hope  not  sacrilegiously — of  that  triumphant  line,  "  Lift 
up  your  heads,  0  ye  everlasting  gates,  and  let  the  King  of 
Glory  come  in!  "  Who  is  the  King  of  Glory?  Look! 

A  fair-haired  boy,  slightly  built,  with  blonde  and  silken 
beard,  astride  a  horse  that  is  white  as  untrodden  snow 
and  as  gentle  as  the  plaything  of  a  child,  clad  in  a  simple 
uniform  of  dark  green,  and  holding  his  gloved  hand  con- 
stantly to  his  astrachan  cap  in  salute — this  is  the  King  of 
Glory.  He  is  pale — evident  emotion  stirs  within  him  as 
he  turns  quietly  from  side  to  side  acknowledging  the  thor- 
oughly imperial  reception  accorded  him.  His  eye  glistens. 
And  he  is  alone,  the  one  solitary. figure  in  all  that  mighty 
host.  His  person  is  open  to  the  admiration,  or  it  may  be 
the  assault,  of  all.  At  any  rate,  no  craven  fear  prevents  his 
riding  in  such  a  position  that  all  his  faithful  people  may 
have  a  complete  view  of  their  Emperor.  It  was  a  moment 
to  stir  the  most  phlegmatic  breast.  It  was  of  no  use  to 
say  to  one's  self,  "  I  am  a  republican;  it  will  never  do  for 
me  to  display  enthusiasm  over  a  regal  show."  No;  the 
veriest  socialist  in  the  world — yes,  even  a  deep-dyed 
Nihilist — would,  as  he  glanced  upon  that  youthful  figure, 
have  cast  his  theories  to  the  wind  and  shouted,  in  spite  of 
himself,  "  Long  live  the  Emperor!  " 

At  the  gate  of  the  city  opposite  the  railway  station 
the  Governor  of  Moscow  advanced  on  foot  and  tendered  to 
the  Emperor  the  plate  of  bread  and  salt  which  is  the  sym- 
bol of  friendship  and  fealty. 

And  now  I  made  my  escape.  Driving  swiftly  by  a  cir- 
cuitous route  that  removed  me  altogether  from  the  crowds 
gathered  along  the  route  of  the  procession,  I  made  my  way 
to  the  pavilion  erected  opposite  the  Grand  Duke  Serge's 
palace,  to  occupy  the  place  which  had  been  reserved  for 
me,  and  to  which  the  ladies  of  our  party  had  gone  earlier 
in  the  day.  Here  the  crowd  was  very  dense.  Looking 
either  way  from  this  elevation,  one  saw  nothing  but  in- 
terminable lines  of  soldiers,  and  a  sea  of  upturned  eager 
faces,  all  gazing  in  one  direction — all  watching  for  the 


^  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

coming  of  that  solitary  horseman.  While  we  were  thus 
waiting,  an  unexpected  incident  occurred  in  the  Grand 
Duke's  palace,  where  the  dignitaries  of  the  Diplomatic 
Corps  were  assembled.  A  fire  started  in  to  celebrate  the 
coronation  in  its  own  way  and  afforded  an  almost  amusing 
diversion.  No  harm  was  done,  but  there  was  about  as  lively 
a  scattering  of  diplomats  as  was  ever  witnessed;  and  con- 
spicuous among  those  to  make  what  is  called  upon  the 
stage,  I  believe,  "  a  quick  exit,"  were  the  members  of  the 
Chinese  Embassy.  The  way  they  held  their  many-coloured 
skirts  aloft  in  running  across  the  street  was  worthy  of  a 
Paris  boulevard  upon  a  rainy  day.  Here,  also,  I  had  an- 
other confirmation  of  my  fast-growing  conviction  that 
there  is  no  country  on  earth  superior  to  Eussia  in  the 
matter  of  discipline.  The  fire  department  was  called  out. 
It  came  with  little  or  no  bustle.  The  crowd  displayed  no 
excitement;  the  men  went  to  work,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  all  was  over.  There  are  no  water  mains  in  Mos- 
cow; and  that  used  for  extinguishing  fires  is  brought  to  the 
scene  in  barrels  and  pumped  on  to  the  flames  by  hand  appa- 
ratus which  would  disgrace  a  third-class  Western  town.  The 
firemen  wear  short  double-breasted  jackets  of  gray  blanket 
goods,  a  very  wide  leather  belt,  and  attached  to  the  latter 
a  big  ring  and  hatchet.  All  bear  coils  of  rope  over  their 
shoulders.  The  brass  helmet  is  very  similar  to  that  worn 
by  the  London  Fire  Brigade.  They  are  large  men,  under 
perfect  discipline,  and  go  to  work  without  the  slightest 
show  of  excitement.  Indeed,  the  only  excitement  on  this 
occasion  was  on  the  part  of  the  diplomats. 

While  we  were  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  procession, 
I  noticed  that  in  the  square  beneath  us  the  police  had  made 
room  for  a  large  number  of  school  children,  who  were 
marched  to  the  place  for  the  purpose  of  catching  a  glimpse 
of  their  Emperor.  At  about  two  o'clock  the  murmur  of 
voices,  which  always  in  a  great  crowd  preludes  a  climax, 
began  to  grow  louder  and  still  louder,  and  all  knew  that 
the  Tsar  was  approaching.  It  was  indeed  a  scene  to  live 
forever  in  the  memory  of  the  spectator.  The  street  was 
lined  with  infantry;  behind  these  were  mounted  Cossacks, 


THEN  THE  TSAR  CAME.  103 

behind  the  latter  the  police,  and  then  everywhere  crowds 
of  faces.  And  now  they  come — the  Tsar  riding  alone,  as 
before.  Such  a  roar  as  greeted  him!  Such  a  waving  of 
handkerchiefs  from  the  balconies  resplendent  with  femi- 
nine beauty  attired  as  richly  as  that  in  the  pageant  below! 
The  Emperor  was  followed  at  some  little  distance  by  an 
imperial  escort  of  grand  dukes  and  royal  princes,  which 
would  have  graced  the  retinue  of  a  world-conqueror  in  the 
zenith  of  his  glory.  Among  these  foreign  princes  the  Duke 
of  Connaught  looked  remarkably  well,  and  was  every- 
where greeted  with  enthusiasm  and  respect.  Before  this 
royal  group  rode  the  Minister  of  War,  the  Aide-de-camp 
General  commanding  the  military  household  of  the  Tsar, 
and  other  great  military  officials. 

Shortly  after  the  Tsar  in  the  procession  came,  first,  the 
Dowager  Empress  in  a  state  carriage  drawn  by  eight  horses; 
then  the  Tsaritsa,  to  whose  golden  vehicle  were  attached 
eight  snow-white  stallions;  and  for  these  two  the  crowd, 
already  hoarse,  seemed  anxious  to  expand  its  last  fragment  of 
lung  power.  And  after  them  came  a  train  of  queens,  grand 
duchesses,  princesses,  and  other  high  ladies,  followed  by 
squadrons  of  the  Cuirassier  Guards,  the  Lancers,  and  the 
Hussars.  Think  of  a  procession  of  human  beings  clothed 
so  richly  that  the  pen  falters  at  a  description  of  their 
attire,  most  of  them  mounted  on  as  fine  a  lot  of  horses  as 
the  eye  could  wish  to  look  upon;  vary  the  picture  by  in- 
serting here  and  there  the  representatives  of  the  Orient; 
then  punctuate  it  with  these  magnificent  vehicles  which 
carried  the  high  officials  and  court  ladies!  Watch  it  as  it 
passes  along.  Listen  to  the  ringing  of  bells,  the  firing  of 
cannon,  the  ever-repeated  shout  of  the  never-tired  multi- 
tude. Flood  this  scene  with  undimmed  sunshine  worthy 
of  Italy  in  her  fairest  moments,  and  keep  in  sight  that 
fair  boy  yonder  on  the  white  horse  as  he  passes  into  the 
Kremlin,  and  you  will  have  been  witness  to  as  grand  a 
display  and  to  as  touching  a  sight  withal  as  this  genera- 
tion, or  indeed  any  other,  is  likely  to  look  upon. 

And  thus  it  swept  along,  borne  by  the  hoarse  cheers 
of  men,  the  chorused  shout  of  soldiers,  the  shrill  voices  of 
8 


104  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

school  children,  the  flaunting  of  flags,  the  waving  of  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  the  blare  of  trumpets.  Surely,  never  was 
prince  more  royally  welcomed  to  his  capital;  never  more 
heartily  blessed  by  his  waiting  subjects.  It  should  be  a 
proud  moment  for  Nicholas  II,  never  to  be  effaced  from  his 
memory;  for  to  him,  at  least,  can  there  come  no  other  day 
quite  so  significant  or  so  grand. 

From  this  point  the  Emperor  passed  on  until  he  came 
to  the  entrance  of  the  Kitai  Gorod.  Here  he  dismounted 
and,  with  the  Tsaritsa,  entered  the  Chapel  of  the  Mother 
of  Iberia,  and  all  alone  in  this  tiny  sanctuary  they  two  did 
reverence  to  one  of  the  most  revered  of  Russian  saints. 

No  Tsar  ever  comes  to  Moscow  without  dismounting 
on  his  way  to  the  Kremlin  to  worship  here. 

When  at  last  the  Tsar  came  within  the  Kremlin  walls, 
he  found  a  mighty  throng  awaiting  him.  All  around  the 
great  square  had  been  erected  tribunes,  which  were  filled 
with  Eussian  nobles  and  the  dignitaries  from  the  Asiatic 
countries  under  Russian  rule  or  protection.  Prominent 
among  the  latter,  the  Ameer  of  Bokhara  and  the  Khan  of 
Khiva  in  their  gorgeous  robes  of  red  and  green  and  gold 
viewed  the  scene  with  Oriental  stoicism.  Near  them  the 
Lamas  from  Thibet  blazed  in  yellow  satin  robes  and  brass 
head-dresses.  In  contrast  to  these  were  prelates  from  every 
evangelical  denomination  in  their  serious  and  sober-col- 
oured vestments.  Farther  on,  great  numbers  of  Russian 
nuns  and  long  rows  of  orphans  and  charity-school  chil- 
dren occupied  a  considerable  space;  bodies  of  men  repre- 
senting the  trades  and  industries  filled  in  the  centre  of 
the  square,  and  bordering  all  was  a  double  line  of  soldiery. 
The  Metropolitans,  clothed  in  vestments  of  cloth  of  gold, 
awaited  the  Emperor's  coming  at  the  doors  of  the  churches, 
holding  the  censers,  crosses,  and  ikons.  The  cortege,  when 
it  arrived,  dismounted  and  entered  the  Cathedral  of  the 
Assumption;  the  Emperor  was  preceded  by  his  marshals, 
and  had  on  either  side  the  Empresses,  whose  long  trains 
were  borne  by  pages.  They  were  followed  by  the  grand 
dukes  and  duchesses  and  foreign  sovereigns  and  princes, 
and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  court.  After  a  brief 


THEN  THE  TSAE  CAME.  105 

service  they  left  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption  and 
visited  those  of  the  Archangel  Michael  and  of  the  Saviour 
in  the  Wood;  returning,  the  Emperor  mounted  the  Eed 
Staircase,  and,  amid  the  shouting  and  rejoicing  of  his 
people,  took  possession  of  the  Palace  of  the  Kremlin.  He 
had  at  last  come  to  rule  in  the  house  of  his  fathers  as  the 
father  of  his  people.  Thus  ended  the  first  great  act  in  this 
wonderful  spectacular  performance  which  meant  so  much 
to  this  mighty  nation. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PROCLAIMING   THE   CORONATION. 

IN  no  European  country  has  the  rich  ceremonial  of 
past  ages  so  perfectly  survived  as  in  the  Russian  Empire. 
Linked  as  the  state  is  in  closest  intimacy  to  the  Greek 
Church,  and  rich  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  Orient,  it  is 
the  soil  of  all  others  for  the  growth  and  fruition  of  an 
elaborate  and  perfected  pageantry.  The  succession  of 
functions  at  the  coronation  of  the  Tsar  was  at  once  fas- 
cinating and  bewildering.  I  found  myself  wondering  what 
new  forms  this  extended  series  of  acts  of  allegiance  and 
devotion  could  still  assume;  and  I  also  found  myself  won- 
dering whether  I  should  not  become  hopelessly  mixed 
when  I  came  to  try  to  assort  them  and  place  them  in  order 
in  my  memory.  This  was  at  the  time;  but  distance  some- 
times has  a  clarifying  effect,  and,  as  I  look  back,  the  dif- 
ferent scenes  in  the  brilliant  spectacle  arrange  themselves 
in  as  orderly  array  as  the  succession  of  views  presented  in  a 
well-painted  panorama.  I  see  their  relations  to  each  other 
and  to  the  whole;  and  I  wonder  at  the  ingenuity,  the  skill, 
and  the  infinite  industry  and  painstaking  of  the  persons 
to  whom  was  intrusted  the  weaving  of  this  perplexing 
fabric.  One  of  its  most  interesting  features — from  the 
standpoint  of  the  populace — was  the  proclamation  of  the 
coronation.  This  was  attended  with  very  intricate  detail, 
and  by  a  body  of  officials  arrayed  in  garments  as  bright 
and  glowing  as  those  of  any  stage  king,  and  of  far  greater 
value.  This  ceremony  was  under  the  direction  of  a  full 
general,  who  was  assisted  by  two  aide-de-camp  generals, 
two  aide-de-camp  lieutenant-generals,  two  Grand  Masters 

106 


.§> 


PROCLAIMING  THE  CORONATION.  107 

of  the  Ceremonies  of  the  Coronation,  two  Imperial  Heralds 
at  Arms,  four  Masters  of  Ceremonies,  and  two  Secretaries 
of  the  Senate.  The  military  escort  consisted  of  four  squad- 
rons of  cavalry:  two  from  the  Chevalier  Guards  and  two 
from  the  regiment  of  the  Gardes  a  Cheval,  with  a  complete 
corps  of  drummers  and  trumpeters.  The  proclamation  was 
to  be  repeated  on  three  days — the  three  immediately  pre- 
ceding the  coronation — i.  e.,  the  llth,  12th,  and  13th  of 
May,  according  to  the  Eussian  calendar,  corresponding  to 
the  23d,  24th,  and  25th  of  ours.  The  proclamation,  which 
was  first  read  in  the  Senate  building  within  the  Kremlin, 
is  as  follows: 

"  Our  Most  August,  Most  High  and  Puissant  Sover- 
eign, the  Emperor  Nicholas  Alexandrovich,  having  as- 
cended the  hereditary  throne  of  the  Empire  of  Russia,  and 
of  the  Kingdom  of  Poland  and  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Fin- 
land, which  are  inseparable  therefrom,  has  deigned  to 
order,  after  the  example  of  the  most  pious  sovereigns  his 
glorious  ancestors,  that  the  holy  ceremony  of  the  corona- 
tion and  anointment  of  his  Imperial  Majesty  should,  with 
the  help  of  the  Almighty,  take  place  on  the  14th  day  of 
May;  furthermore,  his  Majesty  has  commanded  that  his 
august  spouse,  the  Empress  Alexandra  Feodorovna,  should 
participate  in  this  holy  function. 

"By  the  present  proclamation  this  solemnity  is  an- 
nounced to  all  the  faithful  subjects  of  his  Majesty,  in  order 
that  on  this  ardently  desired  day  they  may  raise  their  most 
fervent  prayers  to  the  King  of  Kings,  so  that  of  his  un- 
failing grace  he  may  deign  to  bless  his  Majesty's  reign, 
and  preserve  the  public  peace  and  tranquility  to  the 
greater  glory  of  his  Holy  Name  and  the  unalterable  pros- 
perity of  the  Empire." 

From  the  Senate  building  the  procession  proceeded 
in  great  state  to  the  Red  Square,  which  is  immediately 
without  the  inclosure  of  the  Kremlin,  and  there,  the  cav- 
alry having  taken  up  positions  on  each  flank,  the  heralds, 
secretaries,  and  other  officials  being  in  the  centre,  after  a 
fanfare  of  trumpets,  the  proclamation  was  again  read,  this 
time  to  the  assembled  multitude,  which  listened  in  silence, 


108  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

and  at  the  close,  as  the  trumpets  and  drums  executed  the 
National  Anthem,  broke  out  in  cheers  and  shouts.  The 
display  was  very  imposing  and  interesting,  and  highly 
successful  in  all  respects,  save  the  reading,  which  was 
scarcely  a  first-class  elocutionary  effort.  From  this  point 
the  cortege  separated,  and,  riding  to  different  well-known 
points  throughout  the  city,  repeated  the  reading  and  the 
salutes.  During  the  three  days  this  ceremony  was  carried  out 
at  between  thirty  and  forty  different  places  within  the  city. 
The  heralds  were  supposed  to  scatter  the  printed  proclama- 
tions among  the  people,  but  this  was  a  detail  which,  so 
far  as  I  could  observe,  was  not  carried  out.  At  any  rate, 
I  had  to  pay  two  roubles  for  the  copy  I  secured,  and  I  did 
not  hear  of  any  one  else  procuring  a  free  copy.  The 
heralds,  in  all  their  finery  of  gold  and  white,  and  decorated 
surtouts,  riding  white  horses  clad  in  golden  trappings, 
looked  for  all  the  world  like  the  conventional  pictures  of 
that  king  of  England  who  was  as  much  celebrated  for  his 
fondness  of  marriage  as  he  was  for  defending  the  faith. 
Such,  then,  was  the  ceremony  of  the  Solemn  Proclamation 
of  Nicholas  II — similar,  I  suppose,  to  all  other  proclama- 
tions for  the  last  two  centuries  at  least. 

Among  the  delightful  Americans  I  met  at  Moscow 
who  have  taken  up  Eussian  citizenship  was  the  Baroness 
Hune.  Baron  Hune  is  commander  of  the  squadron  of  the 
Chevalier  Guards  which  is  on  duty  in  the  Imperial  Palace; 
and  consequently,  during  all  the  ceremonies  of  the  coro- 
nation, he  was  actively  engaged  and  very  near  the  person 
of  the  Emperor.  He  is  a  tall,  handsome  man,  a  fine  sol- 
dier, and  reminded  me  more  of  a  splendid  specimen  of 
the  German  guard  than  of  a  thorough  Eussian,  as  he  is. 
The  Baroness  is  an  exceedingly  popular  and  very  beautiful 
woman.  She  is  the  daughter  of  Cyrus  Lothrop,  a  former 
United  States  Minister  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  is  an  illus- 
tration of  the  typical  American  woman.  She  told  me  in  con- 
versation that  she  had  grown  very  fond  of  Eussia  and  the 
Eussians,  and  that,  while  she  had  not  forgotten  America, 
she  felt  that  America  and  Eussia  should  be  bracketed  to- 
gether. They  are  both  great  countries,  and,  although  they 


PROCLAIMING  THE  CORONATION.  109 

differ  widely  in  many  respects,  they  have  a  great  deal  in 
common,  which  should  tend  to  cement  a  perpetual  friend- 
ship. Another  link  between  the  two  countries  is  found 
in  the  person  of  Mr.  Alexander  P.  Berry,  that  brilliant 
and  successful  engineer,  who  designed  and  constructed 
the  buildings  of  our  Centennial  Exhibition  at  Philadelphia, 
and  who,  while  seeking  rest  and  recreation  in  foreign 
travels,  perceived  the  opportunity  presented  in  Eussia 
for  the  employment  of  skill  and  enterprise.  In  his  thir- 
teen years  of  residence  in  that  country,  by  the  combina- 
tion of  American  energy  and  talent  with  Kussian  industry, 
he  has  not  only  achieved  for  himself  a  national  reputation 
and  amassed  a  large  fortune,  but  has  been  personally  in- 
strumental in  developing  the  iron  manufacturing  industry, 
and  raised  to  a  high  standard  mechanical  construction  in 
all  its  branches.  He  at  present  maintains  offices  in  eleven 
of  the  principal  cities  of  Eussia,  and  has  works  of  various 
kinds  scattered  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Em- 
pire. 

Within  the  last  few  years  American  enterprise  and 
capital  have  found  a  highly  productive  field  in  Eussia. 
Among  those  thus  induced  to  make  their  homes  in  that  far- 
off  country  is  Mr.  Fred.  Smith,  formerly  of  Philadel- 
phia, who,  with  his  associates,  has  established  a  large  loco- 
motive works  and  steel  plant,  whose  success  is  assured. 

A  number  of  these  self-exiled  Americans  meeting  in 
Moscow  during  the  coronation  celebrated  the  event  by  a 
little  dinner  at  the  Ermitage.  There  was  nothing  remark- 
able about  the  dinner,  except  the  place  in  which  it  was 
given.  There  are  in  Moscow  several  first-class  establish- 
ments for  the  giving  of  entertainments,  but  none  is  better 
than  the  Ermitage.  The  Praga  is  smaller  and  more  of  the 
order  of  a  club;  this  is  an  enormous  establishment  and 
quite  unique  of  its  kind.  If  one  goes  to  Eussia  with  the 
idea  that  he  will  have  to  live  on  an  indifferent  diet,  he  only 
needs  to  dine  at  the  Ermitage  to  have  that  impression 
swiftly  and  permanently  dissipated.  The  dinner  we  had 
upon  this  occasion  was  as  good  as  we  could  have  secured 
at  the  best  places  in  London  or  New  York;  it  was  served 


HO  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

smoothly  and  picturesquely  by  the  white-clad  waiters, 
and  the  cost  was  about  what  it  would  have  been  elsewhere 
in  Europe,  or  in  America.  The  dinner  passed  off  very 
pleasantly. 

While  we  were  feasting,  the  Tsar  and  Tsaritsa  had 
already  entered  upon  the  three  days  of  fasting  and  prayer 
which  immediately  preceded  the  coronation.  This  is  a 
kind  of  retreat  prescribed  for  the  Tsar's  observation  by 
the  Church  functionaries,  and  religiously  observed  by 
him.  These  three  days  were  spent  in  the  Petrovski  Palace, 
largely  in  the  observation  of  certain  acts  of  devotion  and 
self-abasement  which  are  regarded  by  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  as  of  the  highest  value  in  connection  with  the 
enthronement  of  the  Emperor.  To  omit  this  retreat  and 
its  accompanying  ceremonies  would  be  an  offence  in  the 
minds  of  the  faithful,  and  would  augur  ill  for  the  reign 
about  to  commence.  No  Tsar,  whatever  his  own  proclivi- 
ties, would  think  of  neglecting  a  single  link  in  this  long 
chain  of  elaborate  ceremony. 

Sunday,  the  24th,  was  passed  quietly.  In  the  morning 
took  place  the  consecration  of  the  imperial  standards  in 
the  armory  of  the  Kremlin.  This  is  a  ceremony  which  is 
observed  afresh  with  the  accession  of  each  new  occupant 
of  the  Russian  throne.  It  is  essentially  a  private  func- 
tion, and  was  attended  only  by  the  Tsar,  his  immediate 
family,  and  the  more  intimate  and  exalted  members  of 
his  military  household.  The  ceremonial  merely  consists 
of  the  blessing  of  the  standards,  and  the  offering  of  prayers 
appropriate  to  the  occasion  for  the  prosperity  of  those 
standards  during  the  forthcoming  reign.  In  the  after- 
noon I  visited  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Basil,  which,  as  I  have 
mentioned  elsewhere,  cost  its  architect  the  loss  of  his 
eyes.  From  without,  its  aspect  is  most  perplexing,  sur- 
mounted as  it  is  by  no  less  than  eleven  different  domes. 
By  looking  closely  at  the  illustration,  it  will  be  observed 
that  no  two  of  these  domes  are  exactly  alike;  but  when 
one  looks  at  the  building  in  its  entirety,  and  sees  the 
variety  of  colours  employed  in  the  adornment  of  the  domes 
and  minarets,  the  effect  is  strange  and  weird.  Here  is  a 


PROCLAIMING  THE  CORONATION. 

deep  magenta,  there  a  sky-blue,  yonder  a  rich  terra-cotta, 
beside  it  a  tender  violet,  flanked  with  a  deep  sea-green; 
and  over  all,  on  the  principal,  shaft-like  steeple,  a  golden 
dome  surmounted  by  a  slender,  graceful  cross  of  the  same 
precious  metal.  It  is  easier  to  imagine  the  effect  of  this 
combination  than  to  describe  it.  The  cathedral  stands  at 
one  end  of  the  Eed  Square,  and  was  originally  erected  on 
the  site  of  an  ancient  cemetery  where  the  remains  of  St. 
Basil  were  buried.  Ivan  the  Terrible  caused  a  wooden 
church  to  be  built  over  the  saint's  remains  in  1554,  in  com- 
memoration of  the  victory  of  his  arms  over  some  foreign 
foe.  Later  the  wooden  structure  was  taken  down,  and  the 
present  and  magnificent  house  of  worship  erected.  As  may 
be  well  imagined,  the  church  within  is  quaint  in  the  ex- 
treme. Each  of  the  domes  covers  a  distinct  and  separate 
chapel,  and  these  are  all  connected  by  a  labyrinth  of  pas- 
sages covered  with  the  pictures  of  saints  and  with  sacred 
relics.  Among  these  are  the  chains  and  crosses  which 
St.  Basil  used  to  wear  for  the  purpose  of  penance  and  to 
further  promote  his  growth  in  grace.  The  cathedral  is, 
of  course,  worth  visiting,  but  one  never  gets  a  better  im- 
pression of  it  than  when  it  is  seen  from  a  distance  under 
the  illuminating  effect  of  a  brilliant  sun.  It  then  presents 
a  vision  of  startling,  irregular  beauty,  such  as  the  spec- 
tator is  not  likely  to  see  repeated,  travel  he  ever  so  far. 

We  ended  this  quiet  Sunday  most  delightfully  by  din- 
ing at  the  German  Embassy.  This  was  a  state  dinner 
given  by  Prince  Radolin,  the  German  Ambassador.  This 
dinner,  although  given  by  Prince  Radolin,  was  presided 
over  by  the  Grand  Duke  Vladimir,  who  took  the  Princess 
Radolin  in  to  dinner,  the  Prince  escorting  the  Grand 
Duchess.  My  mother  was  escorted  by  the  Portuguese  Am- 
bassador. The  dinner  was  purely  formal,  and  there  was  no 
after-dinner  speaking,  or  any  other  form  of  mental  torture 
with  which  so  many  good  dinners  are  spoiled,  both  in  Eng- 
land and  America.  At  one  end  of  the  dining-room  there  was 
suspended  a  full-length  portrait  of  the  German  Emperor. 
The  menu  was  in  French.  Emperor  William  had  sent 
to  Moscow  his  own  plate  for  use  at  this  occasion,  and  the 


IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

servants  were  in  the  elaborate  livery  of  the  German  court. 
There  was,  of  course,  music  during  the  dinner.  I  learned, 
among  other  interesting  items,  that  the  dates  of  the  entire 
list  of  state  dinners  had  been  arranged  by  the  Grand  Master 
of  Ceremonies,  so  that  there  might  be  no  clashing;  some- 
thing altogether  necessary  when  one  reflects  upon  the 
gigantic  scale  upon  which  everything  connected  with  the 
coronation  was  conducted. 


n 
§ 

o 
* 

I 

e 

I 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   CROWNING   OF   A  TSAE. 

I  HAVE  been  assured  by  those  familiar  with  court  func- 
tions that  this  century  has  not  witnessed  anything  superior 
as  a  state  spectacle  to  the  crowning  of  Nicholas  II.  I  can 
easily  believe  this.  To  say  that  I  had  never  seen  anything 
approaching  it  is  to  say  little,  for  almost  all  my  experi- 
ence has  been  along  the  line  of  republican  simplicity, 
rather  than  in  the  direction  of  monarchical  display.  I 
should  not,  therefore,  have  trusted  my  own  judgment  in 
comparing  this  ceremony  with  others  of  the  same  sort  at 
other  courts.  There  were,  however,  present  in  Moscow 
during  the  coronation  celebrities  from  every  clime — 
diplomats  who  had  had  experience  of  Oriental  opulence, 
Occidental  extravagance  and  democratic  simplicity,  and 
their  unanimous  decision  was  that  which  I  have  stated. 
Moscow  had  outdone  herself.  The  resources  of  Tsardom 
had  been  called  upon  to  make  such  a  display  as  this  gen- 
eration had  not  seen,  and  they  proved  equal  to  the  de- 
mand. 

A  blaze  of  glory!  Jewels  without  number  and  without 
price  bedecking  women  as  fair  as  poet's  dream  could  paint 
them!  A  constant  stream  of  brilliant  uniforms,  flashing 
with  decorations,  and  putting  the  rainbow  to  shame  for 
variety  and  splendour  of  colour.  A  city  scintillating  by 
night  with  millions  of  minute  illuminations  in  such  a 
combination  of  colour  and  form  as  to  baffle  description 
and  defy  the  imagination;  by  day  gay  with  innumerable 
flags,  bannerets,  and  picturesque  designs — all  this  set  off 
by  a  city  whose  normal  beauty  and  quaintness  excel  those 

113 


114  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

of  any  of  Europe,  and  perhaps  of  the  world.  Such  was  the 
impression  left  en  Hoc  upon  my  mind  by  the  coronation 
day  and  its  elaborate  functions. 

I  shall  perhaps  give  the  reader  a  fairer  idea  of  this 
full  and  fascinating  day  if  I  describe  the  event  as  we 
actually  saw  it  from  its  beginning,  and  drift  through  its 
hours,  pen  in  hand,  trying  to  reproduce  the  dazzling, 
kaleidoscopic  panorama  as  it  impressed  itself  upon  my 
memory. 

Of  course,  we  were  all  excitement.  We  had  reached 
the  apex.  Everything  else  in  the  way  of  ceremony  had 
been  simply  preparatory  to  this.  After  it,  all  else  would 
gradually  fade  away  until  the  dead  level  of  the  common- 
place had  been  reached  once  more.  We  had  retired  early 
on  the  previous  night,  knowing  well  that  a  hard  day's 
work  awaited  us.  At  5.30  we  were  aroused,  and  soon 
all  were  astir  and  bustling  with  excitement.  Our  one 
long  looking-glass  was  in  great  demand,  for  every  one  was 
to  display  everything  in  the  way  of  full  dress  which  he  or 
she  possessed.  To-day  G.  revealed  himself  in  the  very 
fetching  court  costume  which  he  had  procured  in  Paris. 
And  I  must  confess  that,  when  he  appeared  in  all  the  glory 
of  cocked  hat,  brass  buttons,  knee  breeches,  silk  stockings, 
dress  sword,  and  silver  buckles,  he  was  a  very  fine-looking 
young  American.  We  did  ample  justice  to  a  hearty  break- 
fast before  starting,  as  we  were  forewarned  that  it  would 
be  many  a  long  hour  before  we  should  have  another  chance 
to  eat.  At  6.45  we  left  the  house  in  two  carriages — my 
mother,  whom  I  thought  beautiful  enough  for  a  place 
in  any  court  ceremony  the  world  over,  and  the  other  ladies 
occupying  one,  G.  and  I,  with  our  ubiquitous,  not  to  say 
iniquitous,  courier,  the  other. 

Our  first  rendezvous  was  at  the  house  of  the  Turkish 
Ambassador,  to  whom,  as  the  senior  of  the  Corps  Diplo- 
matique, the  ambassadorial  honours  of  the  day  were  paid. 
At  his  residence  we  formed  in  line  and  made  our  way  to 
the  Kremlin.  The  air  was  charged  with  electricity.  Every 
one  was  more  or  less  excited.  The  crowds  in  the  streets 
gazed  with  open-mouthed  wonder  at  anything  and  at 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  H5 

everything.  A  Eussian  crowd  is  not  mercurial.  One 
might,  perhaps  with  justice,  declare  it  lymphatic.  During 
the  coronation  itself,  however,  the  fire  of  genuine  interest 
and  enthusiasm  seemed  to  have  melted  the  ice,  and  from 
prince  to  peasant  all  classes  were  alive  with  eager  curiosity 
and  clamorous  applause.  The  scene  on  the  way  to  the 
Kremlin  was  indicative  of  the  representative  nature  of  the 
multitude  assembled  in  Moscow  to  do  honour  to  the  Tsar. 
From  every  corner  of  his  Empire,  men,  women,  and  little 
babes  even,  had  come — many  of  them  travelling  hundreds 
of  miles  afoot — to  be  present  at  the  crowning  of  the  Great 
White  Tsar.  What  devotion!  At  best,  all  they  could  hope 
for  was  a  far-away  glimpse  of  their  ruler  as  he  drove 
through  the  streets,  perhaps  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  win- 
some smiles  which  illuminated  and  beautified  the  features 
of  the  Tsaritsa  throughout  all  the  weary  succession  of 
form  and  ceremony.  The  order  was  superb.  I  could 
scarcely  realize  that  I  was  in  the  land  of  which  so  many 
exaggerations  had  been  published,  as  I  looked  upon  the 
quiet,  orderly,  and  enthusiastic  throngs  which  lined  the 
streets  on  our  way  to  the  function  which  should  enthrone 
the  Tsar. 

By  one  of  those  remarkable  mistakes  which  our  courier 
was  constantly  making,  we  succeeded  in  getting  lost  on 
our  way  to  the  Kremlin.  It  was  a  habit  of  this  person 
to  make  mistakes  which  resulted  almost  invariably  in  land- 
ing us  in  just  the  place  for  which  we  were  not  intended. 
Usually  we  landed  in  a  better  one.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
we  could  scarcely  have  been  in  better  hands — or  worse. 
For  the  seeing  of  sights,  for  the  securing  of  advantages 
difficult  to  be  obtained,  for  the  framing  of  useful  lies  in 
the  midst  of  embarrassing  emergencies,  our  courier  was  cer- 
tainly a  past  master.  As  may  be  well  supposed,  a  nature 
possessing  these  qualities  would  not  be  altogether  free 
from  certain  capacities  in  the  way  of  duplicity  and  im- 
pertinence. However,  cheek  and  deception  are  probably 
more  valuable  in  a  courier  at  such  a  function  than  modesty. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  were  bound  for  the  diplomatic 
tribune,  but,  as  G.  described  our  experience  afterward  in 


116  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

a  letter  home,  "  we  got  lost  in  the  shuffle,  and  turned  up 
in  the  throne  room."  "We  did  not,  however,  immediately 
enter  the  throne  room,  but  by  one  of  those  sudden  move- 
ments which  one  experiences  in  a  crowd,  we  found  our- 
selves in  one  of  the  antechambers  which  seemed  to  be 
devoted  to  the  ladies  in  waiting.  G.  immediately  became 
an  object  of  interest.  And  I  fancied  that  I  detected  a 
slight  straightening  of  the  vertebras  on  G.'s  part  when  he 
found  himself  the  cynosure  of  so  many  sparkling  eyes.  In 
this  room  we  had  our  first  and,  indeed,  only  glimpse  of 
the  imperial  baby.  It  was  a  sweet  little  thing,  peacefully 
reclining  in  its  nurse's  arms,  and  might  have  been  any  one 
else's  baby  quite  as  well  as  the  baby  of  a  Tsar  and  a 
Grand  Duchess  of  Eussia.  We  were  allowed  to  look  at  it, 
and,  indeed,  it  was  allowed  to  look  at  us,  which  it  did 
in  a  very  witching  way,  smiling  sweetly.  After  all,  when 
one  gets  down  to  the  buff,  we  are  all  very  much  alike.  I 
have  often  seen  my  own  babies  smile  quite  as  sweetly;  but 
still,  in  that  tiny  tot's  smile  I  found  the  one  touch  of 
Nature  which  established  between  it  and  us  the  human 
kinship  that  is  universal. 

Firmly  convinced  that  we  were  in  the  wrong  shop,  we 
yet  determined  to  assume  an  air  of  proprietorship  and  see 
what  was  to  be  seen.  So  we  sauntered  out  of  the  ante- 
chamber in  which  the  little  Grand  Duchess  Olga  was  hold- 
ing her  court,  and,  passing  into  the  next  room,  found  that 
we  were  in  the  throne  room  of  the  palace,  otherwise  known 
as  the  Hall  of  St.  Andrew.  This  was  simply  crowded  with 
uniformed  and  order-bedecked  princes,  generals,  official 
and  court  dignitaries  of  the  highest  rank.  It  was  diffi- 
cult to  realize  their  exalted  positions  on  account  of  their 
multitude. 

Anything  more  beautiful  than  this  hall  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  conceive.  The  floor  is  of  polished  woods,  which 
throw  back  into  the  spectator's  eyes  brilliant  reflections 
of  the  gold  and  crystal  ornamentation  of  the  walls  and 
ceiling.  The  hall  is  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long  by 
sixty-eight  feet  wide;  down  each  side  is  a  row  of  columns, 
which  at  the  top  bend  to  the  curve  of  the  domed  ceiling. 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  H7 

These  pillars  are  picked  out  in  gold  on  a  background  of 
light  blue,  the  colour  of  the  Order  of  St.  Andrew.  Be- 
tween the  columns,  and  pendent  from  the  ceiling,  which 
is  also  of  blue  and  gold,  are  the  splendid  gold  and  crystal 
chandeliers.  At  night,  when  the  candles  required  to  il- 
luminate this  room — more  than  two  thousand  in  number — 
are  lighted,  the  scene  presented  to  the  eye  is  one  of  scintil- 
lating magnificence,  difficult  to  exaggerate.  It  reminded 
me  of  some  splendid  stage  spectacle,  with  this  difference: 
that  here  all  the  properties  were  genuine.  The  Order  of 
St.  Andrew  is  the  Russian  equivalent  of  the  English  Order 
of  St.  George,  being  the  senior  among  Russian  orders.  At 
the  extreme  end  of  this  hall,  on  a  platform  reached  by  six 
gentle  steps,  was  the  throne  of  Russia.  It  was  made  august 
by  a  rich  over-reaching  canopy  bedight  with  gold  and  sil- 
ver embroidery;  and  the  draperies  which  depended  on 
either  side  were  without  of  velvet  and  cloth  of  gold  heavy 
with  the  arms  of  Russia,  and  within  white  with  costly 
ermine,  the  fur  which  royalty  chiefly  affects.  When  I 
saw  the  throne,  there  were  three  chairs  on  the  platform. 
These  were  for  the  Tsar,  his  wife,  and  his  mother.  That 
was,  I  thought,  as  it  should  be.  The  Dowager  Empress 
is  not  pushed  aside  by  the  incoming  Tsar.  The  affection 
between  mother  and  son  is  said  to  be  very  intense,  and 
certainly,  through  all  the  ceremonies,  next  to  the  gentle 
lady  by  his  side,  she  whom  the  Tsar  most  delighted  to 
honour  was  the  widowed  mother  whose  chastened  grief 
seemed  to  sanctify  and  ennoble  every  scene  upon  which 
she  gazed.  I  suppose  that  moralizing  in  such  circum- 
stances is  a  rather  cheap  refuge,  and  I  had  hoped  to  avoid 
it  altogether.  It  was,  however,  difficult  to  stand  before 
that  throne  and  suppress  all  reflections  of  a  sociological 
character.  Napoleon  the  Great,  in  one  of  his  bitter  mo- 
ments, scoffed  at  the  throne  as  a  device  of  pine  boards 
and  velvet.  Even  so:  With  what  significance  can  pine 
boards  and  velvet  be  laden  in  certain  circumstances!  This 
throne  before  which  I  stood,  how  tremendous  is  its  power, 
how  sweeping  are  its  responsibilities!  It  is  charged  with 
the  government  of  one  seventh  of  the  land  surface  of  the 


118  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

earth;  revered  by  a  population  of  over  one  hundred  and 
twelve  millions  of  human  beings;  supported  by  an  army 
of  more  than  a  million  men,  which  on  a  war  footing  is 
swiftly  turned  into  two  millions;  gathering  within  its 
paternal  embrace  men  of  all  colours  and  many  climes;  in- 
trenched in  a  series  of  traditions  strong  as  death;  but- 
tressed by  a  Church  whose  chief  is  the  Tsar,  and  whose 
highest  tenet,  after  faith  in  God,  is  submissive  devotion 
to  him.  Surely,  I  thought,  as  I  looked  upon  it,  that  pine 
boards  and  velvet  are  in  such  circumstances  significant 
and  eloquent.  And  as  my  thought  turned  to  the  young 
monarch  upon  whose  shoulders  so  early  in  life  this  tre- 
mendous power  had  been  placed,  I  found  myself  hoping 
that  he  might  find  a  way  to  soothe  the  irritated  among  his 
subjects,  and  to  lead  his  people,  like  a  modern  Moses,  into 
the  broad  fields  of  peace,  plenty,  and  contentment. 

While  we  were  in  the  throne  room  I  noticed  on  each 
side  of  it  a  rank  of  the  Chevalier  Guards  on  duty.  Why 
they  were  there,  except  as  part  of  the  general  pageant, 
it  is  difficult  to  say.  Upon  this  occasion  they  were  all  in 
absolutely  new  uniforms  to  grace  the  Holy  Coronation, 
and  I  was  much  amused,  as  they  stood  there  in  all  their 
magnificence,  to  notice  a  couple  of  soldier-servants  going 
down  each  line  and  dusting  off  their  boots,  of  which  opera- 
tion they  took  no  more  notice  than  if  carved  out  of  stone. 
In  this  room  (I  had  an  excellent  chance  to  observe  them) 
were  the  crown  jewels  of  Russia.  They  were  exhibited  on 
a  long  table  covered  with  cloth  of  gold  and  surrounded 
by  a  silver  chain  which  was  suspended  from  the  beaks  of 
silver  eagles  surmounting  silver  posts.  The  jewels  were 
there  awaiting  the  supreme  moment  when  they  should  be 
taken  away  to  be  used  in  the  sacred  ceremony  in  the 
cathedral.  Among  them  were  the  Imperial  Sceptre,  the 
globe  of  gold  with  its  sparkling  ornamentations,  the  sacred 
crown  with  which  Nicholas  II  later  crowned  himself  the 
supreme  monarch  of  the  Russian  Empire,  the  two  crowns 
of  the  Empresses  (both  masses  of  diamonds),  the  two 
jewelled  collars  of  the  Order  of  St.  Andrew,  the  two  royal 
robes,  the  great  Sword  of  State,  and  the  Imperial  Seal. 


THE  CROWNING  OP  A  TSAR.  H9 

I  could  have  stretched  forth  my  hand  and  touched  these 
precious  gems.  If  crowns  are  going  to  be  worn  at  all,  I 
should  say  that  the  imperial  crown  of  Eussia  is  a  very 
good  kind  of  a  crown  to  wear;  though  when  an  hour  or 
two  later  I  saw  it  upon  the  brow  of  the  Tsar,  I  was  forcibly 
reminded  of  the  line, 

Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown, 

for  it  was  tilted  slightly,  and  appeared  to  be  a  bit  too  large  for 
his  Majesty's  head.  However,  real  monarchs — unlike  the 
kings  and  queens  of  stage  life — do  not  spend  their  entire 
lives  carrying  about  their  crowns.  I  should  pity  them  if 
they  did. 

This  view  of  the  throne  room  and  crown  jewels,  as  also 
of  the  baby  Grand  Duchess,  the  reader  will  understand 
was  entirely  accidental,  and  altogether  owing  to  the  crass 
impertinence  of  our  courier,  who  had  driven  us  up  to  the 
wrong  entrance,  and  then,  by  the  exercise  of  a  degree  of 
assurance  which  would  have  made  him  an  eminent  com- 
petitor of  the  lamented  Barnum,  had  forced  our  way  into 
an  imperial  zone,  where,  to  say  the  least,  we  were  not  ex- 
pected. This  was  one  of  the  occasions  when  his  assurance 
yielded  a  rich  return.  Besides  the  sights  we  thus  unex- 
pectedly saw,  we  experienced  one  more  instance  of  the 
unfailing  courtesy  of  Russian  court  officials.  While  we 
were  looking  at  the  jewels  we  were  approached  by  a  gentle- 
man— one  of  the  chamberlains  I  took  him  to  be — who  pro- 
ceeded to  enter  into  a  pleasant  conversation  with  us  about 
the  gems.  He  gave  us  the  history  of  each  and  every  one 
of  them,  together  with  much  valuable  information,  and 
from  this  turned  to  a  pleasant  remark  about  the  corona- 
tion, asking  us  almost  indifferently  if  we  were  not  going  to 
the  tribune  ?  We  answered,  "  Yes."  And  with  the  greatest 
possible  ease  he  said,  "  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  sending 
an  official  with  you  to  show  you  the  way."  It  was  about 
the  most  delightfully  easy  manner  in  which  I  had  ever 
been  told  that  my  room  was  more  desired  than  my  com- 
pany. We  had,  however,  seen  the  throne,  the  crown,  and 
the  baby! 

9 


120  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

And  now  came  a  supreme  moment — not  so  much  in  its 
present  significance  as  in  its  historic  associations.  We  were 
led  through  the  two  lines  of  Guards,  returning  the  salute 
so  gallantly  given  with  a  simple  bow,  then  through  a  throng 
of  civilians,  and  at  last,  by  a  sudden  turn  to  the  left, 
brought  to  a  stop  at  the  head  of  the  Eed  Stairs,  at  whose 
foot  was  a  sea  of  faces,  all  of  them  eagerly  looking  for  the 
Tsar.  The  effect  was  startling.  From  these  stairs  Napoleon 
had  turned  to  look  upon  Moscow  as  he  entered  the  Palace 
of  the  Kremlin;  down  these  stairs  he  had  gone  when  Mos- 
cow, fired  by  the  torch  of  Rostopchine,  no  longer  gave 
shelter  to  his  army;  from  them  the  father  of  the  present 
Tsar  had  turned  to  salute,  and  to  be  saluted  by  his  people, 
when  returning  from  the  very  function  through  which  his 
son  was  about  to  pass.  The  picture  was  dazzling.  Every- 
where faces — faces!  On  every  side  were  colour,  gold  and 
gems  glistening  in  the  sun,  fair  women  vivacious  and 
eager,  stalwart  men  glittering  with  steel  and  gold  and  brass 
and  scarlet,  swarthy  Cossacks,  lithe  Hussars,  gigantic 
Guards,  sturdy  police,  and,  above  and  beyond  all  else,  the 
eager,  throbbing,  acclaiming  multitude,  waiting  for  ita 
monarch.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  scene.  I  should  like 
to  make  the  situation  plain  to  the  reader.  Standing  at 
the  head  of  the  Eed  Stairs,  and  so  looking  out  from  the 
palace,  we  saw  to  the  immediate  right  an  open  tribune, 
full  of  Russian  nobles  and  their  womenkind;  beyond  this, 
in  the  right-hand  corner  of  the  square,  nearest  the  palace, 
stands  the  Cathedral  of  the  Saviour  in  the  Wood,  and  in 
the  farther  corner  of  the  right-hand  side  of  the  square 
stands  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Michael.  Between  these  two 
churches  was  erected  a  two-storied  tribune.  This  also  was 
filled  with  a  glittering  multitude.  Immediately  opposite 
the  Red  Stairs,  and  with  their  backs  to  the  Tower  of  Ivan, 
were  other  tribunes;  and,  turning  sharply  to  the  left  from 
the  foot  of  the  Stairs,  and  going  through  a  human  lane, 
one  would  reach  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption,  in  which 
the  great  ceremony  was  to  take  place.  Will  the  reader, 
then,  imagine  himself  at  the  head  of  this  famous  Red 
Staircase?  Before  him  he  will  see  a  multicoloured  mass 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  121 

of  human  beings,  on  every  side  bunting,  for  a  background 
the  splendid  architecture  of  the  churches,  and,  if  he 
glances  to  the  right,  over  the  two-storied  tribune  between 
the  two  cathedrals,  he  will  catch  a  glimpse  of  field  and 
woodland,  looking  like  some  superb  landscape  framed  and 
hung  in  a  crowded  palace.  A  band  stationed  in  the  corner 
is  playing  soft  and  sensuous  strains,  the  distant  boom  of 
cannon  is  heard  mingling  with  the  chime  of  bells;  and 
over  all  and  through  it  all,  like  a  solemn  river  making  its 
way  slowly  but  irresistibly  through  a  great,  unheeding 
metropolis,  is  the  imperishable  murmur  of  the  multitude 
waiting  for  its  king. 

We  now  made  our  way  to  the  seats  in  the  tribune,  which 
my  mother,  with  genuine  maternal  care,  had  kept  for  us  all 
this  time.  From  this  coign  of  vantage  we  had  a  splendid 
view  of  the  square  of  the  Kremlin,  as  well  as  of  the  large 
number  of  distinguished  individuals  gathered  to  do  honour 
to  the  Tsar.  The  square  itself  had  been  marked  off  into 
a  huge  cross  which  intersected  it  at  right  angles.  This 
cross  was  carpeted  in  royal  red — a  colour  which  served 
to  throw  into  vivid  contrast  the  splendid  uniforms  of  the 
Guards  and  of  the  Cossacks  that  lined  its  arms.  In  the 
spaces  not  marked  off  as  pathways,  and  not  occupied  by 
the  military,  were  the  people.  And  when,  shortly  before 
noon,  the  Tsar  came  out  of  the  palace,  on  his  way  to  the 
coronation,  one  might  almost  have  thought  that  he  was 
looking  down  upon  an  American  crowd  assembled  at  the 
installation  of  a  president,  so  genuine  and  so  hearty  was 
the  applause.  Hats  were  thrown  in  the  air,  handkerchiefs 
waved,  and  men  and  women  cheered  and  cheered  again 
until  they  were  hoarse.  The  only  thing  which  was  dis- 
tinctly different  from  either  an  English  or  American  crowd 
was  the  cheer,  which  was  certainly  the  most  peculiar  I 
ever  heard.  It  sounded  very  much  like  a  prolonged  growl, 
rising  higher  and  higher  as  it  approached  its  culmination; 
and  again  and  again  this  peculiar  acclamation  swept  over 
the  multitude,  and  was  caught  up  by  those  without  the 
palace  walls,  and  then  by  the  more  distant  masses,  until  the 
volume  of  sound  was  deafening. 


122  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

As  it  rose  and  fell  there  approached  the  first  proces- 
sion— the  procession  of  her  Imperial  Majesty,  the  Dowager 
Empress  Marie  Feodorovna.  This  was  composed  of  the 
members  of  her  own  court,  and  of  other  dignitaries  ap- 
pointed for  the  occasion.  She  bore  herself  with  regal 
dignity.  Every  detail  of  the  order  of  her  procession  had 
been  fixed  to  a  nicety.  Preceded  by  a  detachment  of  the 
guards  of  her  own  regiment,  accompanied  on  either  side 
by  two  very  distinguished  court  ladies,  and  wearing  her 
imperial  crown  and  robe,  she  slowly  made  her  way  from 
the  Hall  of  St.  Catherine  in  the  palace  down  the  Eed 
Stairs,  at  whose  foot  her  palanquin  awaited  her,  and  under 
its  shade  across  the  square  to  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assump- 
tion. How  full  of  both  joy  and  sorrow  must  this  day  have 
been  to  her!  It  was  only  thirteen  years  ago  that  she  had 
taken  part  in  a  similar  function  as  one  of  the  two  leading 
dramatis  persona.  Then  she  had  walked  beside  Alexander 
to  take  up  a  share  of  his  crown  and  of  his  responsibilities; 
now  she  was  at  the  best  a  revered  looker-on.  In  her  train 
were  ladies  of  honour,  pages  of  honour,  grand  duchesses 
and  their  dames  of  honour,  and  any  number  of  lesser 
officials.  She  looked  well,  but  sad,  and  bowed  with  stately 
dignity  to  the  cheering  multitude  through  which  she 
passed.  At  the  door  of  the  cathedral  her  Majesty  was  met 
by  the  Metropolitan  of  Moscow  and  his  assisting  clergy, 
who  presented  to  her  the  cross  and  the  holy  water.  After 
this  she  took  her  place  in  the  church  on  the  throne  of  the 
Tsar  Alexis  Mikhalilovitch,  which  was  placed  on  a  special 
dais  and  surmounted  by  a  magnificent  canopy.  A  few  of 
the  more  important  members  of  her  suite  remained  in  the 
cathedral,  but  the  large  majority  passed  out  by  another 
door  and  waited  for  the  conclusion  of  the  service  in  the 
Synodal  Chamber  hard  by.  After  the  Dowager  Empress 
had  entered  the  cathedral,  an  official  known  as  the  Treas- 
urer of  the  Emperor,  carrying  the  cross,  assisted  by  two 
deacons,^ went  over  the  course  to  be  traversed  by  the  Em- 
peror, and  sprinkled  it  with  the  holy  water  the  deacons  car- 
ried. This  function,  much  to  my  surprise,  was  the  signal  for 
a  flourish  of  trumpets  and  the  ringing  of  bells  and  cheering. 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  123 

After  this  had  been  done,  the  Arch  Grand  Marshal  in- 
formed his  Majesty  that  the  august  moment  had  arrived 
for  him  to  proceed  to  the  cathedral,  and  the  Tsar  and  the 
Tsaritsa  entered  the  throne  room  and  took  their  places 
on  the  throne  which  I  have  already  described,  to  await 
the  formation  of  the  procession  by  which  they  were  to  be 
accompanied.  A  nourish  of  trumpets  by  the  trumpeter 
of  the  Chevalier  Guards  announced  the  moment  of  the 
departure  of  the  Emperor  from  the  throne  room.  I  will 
give  a  brief  statement  of  the  order  of  the  procession  which 
accompanied  him: 

1.  A  detachment  of  the  Chevalier  Guards — the  regi- 
ment of  the  Dowager  Empress. 

2.  The  Pages,  and  Pages  of  the  Chamber. 

3.  The  Masters  of  Ceremony. 

4.  A  group  of  the  rural  representatives  of  the  Empire. 
Of  these  the  eldest  fourteen  were  allowed  to  remain  in  the 
cathedral;  the  rest  waited  outside. 

5.  The  Mayors  of  the  two  capitals. 

6.  Delegates  from  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Finland. 

Following  these,  and  in  the  order  named,  came  dele- 
gates from  the  government  of  Zemstvos,  the  President 
and  members  of  the  Committee  of  the  Moscow  Bourse, 
delegates  of  the  bourgeoisie  and  artisans,  of  the  different 
banks,  and  the  principal  manufactories  of  Moscow,  to- 
gether with  its  City  Government;  delegates  from  the 
various  public  institutions  of  Moscow,  and  so  many  others 
that  to  enumerate  them  in  complete  detail  would  weary 
both  the  reader  and  the  writer.  I  noticed  among  the 
deputations  one  which  specially  interested  me — viz.,  a 
delegation  from  the  Cossack  troops  and  populations.  These 
were  arrayed  in  semi-barbaric  splendour,  which  was  quite 
characteristic.  The  reader  will  gain  some  idea  of  the 
magnitude  of  this  procession  if  I  mention  that  in  the 
official  order  of  the  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies  it  is  set 
out  in  fifty-seven  separate  divisions.  It  is  quite  certain 
that  none  of  the  fifty-seven  was  absent.  Of  course,  every 
important  interest  and  section  of  society  was  represented, 
though  a  majority  of  those  in  the  procession  only  passed 


124  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

through  the  cathedral,  catching  the  merest  glance  of  the 
sacred  spot,  and  then  passed  on  to  await  the  conclusion 
of  the  service  in  the  adjoining  Synodal  Chamber.  The 
forty-fifth  division  is  worthy  of  a  moment's  notice.  It 
consisted  of  the  officials  bearing  on  cushions  of  gold  and 
silver  cloth,  or  of  velvet  studded  with  jewels,  the  jewels 
which  we  had  shortly  before  unexpectedly  seen  in  the 
throne  room.  It  may  prove  of  interest  to  the  careful 
reader  to  know  just  what  these  were.  I  give  them  in  the 
order  in  which  they  were  borne:  The  Collar  of  the  Order 
of  St.  Andrew  for  the  Empress;  the  Sword  of  State;  the 
Standard;  the  State  Seal;  the  Imperial  Mantle  of  the 
Empress;  the  Emperor's  Eobes;  the  Globe;  the  Sceptre; 
the  Empress's  Crown;  and  the  Emperor's  Crown.  On 
each  side  of  the  imperial  insignia  marched  the  Emperor's 
aides-de-camp,  the  generals  of  the  suite,  and  the  aides- 
de-camp  of  the  generals,  in  the  reversed  order  of  their 
seniority,  the  juniors  marching  first. 

The  fiftieth  division  was  the  group  of  which  his  Majesty 
was  the  centre.  This  was  made  up  of  the  most  eminent 
men  in  his  Empire.  Beside  him  walked  two  members  of 
the  nobility,  and  he  was  followed  immediately  by  the 
Ministers  of  the  Household  and  of  War,  the  Commander  of 
the  Imperial  Household,  the  Aide-de-Camp  in  General  and 
other  military  officials,  with  the  commander  of  the 
Chevalier  Guards  at  the  rear  with  drawn  sword  and 
wearing  his  helmet.  Then  followed  the  Empress.  This 
group  was  sheltered  by  a  magnificent  canopy  of  gold,  silver, 
and  embroidered  silk. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  was  the  youthful  Tsar! 
The  first  thought  that  struck  me  was,  How  young  is  he, 
to  be  burdened  with  the  government  of  a  mighty  state! 
Fair  of  face,  with  a  kindly,  beaming  eye,  an  almost  boyish 
expression,  he  reminded  me  much  of  his  English  cousin, 
the  Duke  of  York.  On  him,  at  this  moment,  every  eye 
was  fixed  as  he  slowly  moved  along.  His  face  was  pale, 
as  though  the  tremendous  strain  of  function  on  function 
had  begun  to  tell;  but  there  was  a  quiet  determination 
in  his  mien,  a  simplicity  and  modesty  that  augured  well 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  125 

for  the  future  of  Eussia.  If  ever  monarch  was  blessed 
with  a  kindly,  benevolent  face,  certainly  Nicholas  II 
has  been  so  endowed  by  Nature.  And  so  quietly,  and  al- 
most with  an  air  of  humility,  as  is  becoming  on  the  edge 
of  such  terrific  responsibilities,  the  young  Tsar  and  his 
sweet,  gracious  wife  made  their  way  to  the  Cathedral  of 
the  Assumption.  It  is  scarcely  needful  for  me  to  say  that 
during  all  the  time  the  procession  had  been  making  its  way 
from  the  palace  to  the  cathedral  there  had  been  a  ringing 
of  bells,  presenting  of  arms  by  the  military,  and  cheering 
by  the  multitude.  Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  cathedral, 
the  Emperor  and  Empress  were  met  by  the  Metropolitans. 
After  the  customary  genuflexions,  the  Metropolitan  of  Mos- 
cow pronounced  an  allocution;  the  Metropolitan  of  St. 
Petersburg  held  a  jewelled  crucifix  to  their  lips  for  them 
to  kiss,  and  the  Metropolitan  of  Kieff  besprinkled  them 
with  holy  water.  Then  they  passed  on  with  slow  and  rev- 
erent step,  bowing,  and  bowing  low,  to  the  sacred  images 
on  either  hand,  until  they  reached  at  length  the  plat- 
form in  the  centre  of  the  cathedral,  which  was  to  be  the 
centre  of  the  stage  for  all  the  intricate  ceremonial  which 
was  to  follow.  On  this  platform  were  two  thrones,  those 
of  the  Tsars  Michel  Feodorovitch  and  Jean  III.  "When 
Emperor  and  Empress  were  seated,  the  archbishops,  archi- 
mandrites, and  the  officiating  clergy  formed  in  two  lines 
between  the  platform  and  the  Holy  Door  leading  to  the 
sanctuary,  in  which  the  anointing  of  the  Tsar  was  to  take 
place.  This  position  assumed,  the  clergy  and  choristers 
took  up  the  refrain  of  the  Misericordiam  et  Judicum  Can- 
tabo  Tibi  Domine. 

Meanwhile,  the  officials  who  had  borne  the  insignia,  and 
the  high  officials  of  state,  had  grouped  themselves  about 
the  thrones  of  the  Tsar  and  his  spouse.  At  each  corner 
of  the  platform  stood  a  Chevalier  Guard  with  drawn 
sword,  and  right  behind  the  Emperor,  the  commander  of 
this  famous  regiment  with  drawn  sword  also,  and  clasping 
his  helmet  in  his  right  hand.  All  the  insignia  had  been 
placed  on  a  table,  and  the  officials  who  had  borne  them 
stood  near  by  in  readiness  to  pass  them  to  the  Metropolitan 


126  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

or  the  Tsar  when  they  were  demanded.  All  this  had 
been  done  while  their  Majesties  were  slowly  approaching 
the  throne  and  doing  obeisance  to  the  sacred  images. 
Near  the  throne  stood  the  Civil  Governor  of  Moscow  with 
a  roll  of  cloth  of  gold  and  crimson  velvet,  ready  to  un- 
fold it  before  the  Tsar  when  he  should  leave  the  throne 
to  approach  the  sacred  altar.  All  was  now  in  readiness. 
The  cathedral  was  a  blaze  of  light  and  beauty.  The  vest- 
ments of  the  priests,  the  uniforms  of  the  soldiers,  the  coro- 
nets and  crowns  of  assembled  monarchs,  the  sacred  pic- 
tures, the  odour  of  incense,  the  intoning  of  priests,  the 
sunlight  distilled  through  the  rich  windows  of  the  sacred 
edifice — all  this  made  up  a  scene  never  to  be  effaced  from  the 
mind.  And  in  the  centre  of  all  stood  the  young  Tsar, 
panoplied  with  the  dignity  which  responsibility  gives,  the 
strength  which  necessity  creates. 

The  ceremony  itself  was  just  such  an  one  as  one  would 
look  for  in  a  church  which  is  interwoven  with  a  state  so 
splendid  and  so  Oriental.  First,  the  Metropolitan  of  St. 
Petersburg  called  upon  the  Emperor  for  a  confession  of 
faith,  handing  him  a  book  from  which  to  read  it.  This 
the  Tsar  read  in  a  clear  voice,  but  low;  and  then  the 
Metropolitan  pronounced  the  blessing,  Gratia  Spiritus 
Sancti  sit  semper  tecum.  Amen.  After  the  reading  of  the 
Gospel  by  the  Metropolitan,  the  Emperor,  having  removed 
the  collar  of  the  Order  of  St.  Andrew,  replaced  it  with  the 
coronation  robe  and  the  diamond  collar  of  the  same  Order. 
The  robe  and  collar  were  presented  to  the  Emperor  on 
two  cushions  by  the  Metropolitans  of  St.  Petersburg  and 
Kieff;  and  then  the  former  crossed  his  hands  upon  the 
Emperor's  bowed  head  and  pronounced  the  benediction, 
In  nomine  Patris  et  Filii  et  Spiritus  Sancti.  Amen. 
While  holding  his  hands  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  the  Metro- 
politan also  delivered  two  prayers,  prescribed  by  ritual. 
After  this  the  Emperor  in  a  low  voice  ordered  the  imperial 
crown  to  be  brought.  The  official  who  had  borne  it  in 
the  procession  now  advanced  with  it  to  the  Metropolitan 
of  St.  Petersburg,  who  in  turn  presented  it  to  the  Em- 
peror. Very  deliberately  and  with  great  dignity  the  Tsar 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  127 

placed  the  crown  upon  his  head;  and  then  in  a  high  voice 
the  Metropolitan  of  St.  Petersburg  pronounced  the  pre- 
scribed allocution. 

To  me  this  was  a  significant  moment.  Nicholas  had 
crowned  himself,  not  as  Napoleon  did,  in  defiance  of  the 
Church,  but  with  all  the  ecclesiastical  sanction,  as  being 
the  highest  functionary  in  that  Church.  I  was  impressed 
at  every  step  in  this  lengthy  ceremonial  with  the  supreme 
wisdom  of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  who  had  shaped  the 
early  course  of  the  Greek  Church  in  the  Eussian  Empire. 
It  has  not  alienated  itself  from  the  State,  as  Rome  has 
done,  but  has  so  welded  itself  to  it  that  every  function  of 
State  is  also  a  function  of  the  Church.  Here  there  is  no 
possible  antagonism.  There  is  no  question  of  relative  au- 
thority and  comparative  dignity,  no  jealous  observation 
of  the  Church  by  the  State,  no  acrid  recriminations  ad- 
dressed to  the  State  by  the  Church.  Here  there  is  no 
division  of  interests,  for  the  interest  of  both  is  one;  and 
the  chief  care  of  the  Church  in  Russia  is  to  inspire  all  its 
children,  from  the  highest  Grand  Duke  to  the  poorest 
peasant,  with  loyalty  and  reverence  for  the  Tsar.  As  head 
of  the  Church,  therefore,  Nicholas  II  had  crowned  him- 
self as  head  of  the  State;  and  that  because  in  the  Church 
there  was  no  higher  functionary  to  crown  him.  The 
sceptre  and  the  globe  having  next  been  presented  to  him, 
the  Emperor  seated  himself  for  a  moment  only — the  high- 
est embodiment  of  power,  civil,  military,  or  ecclesiastic, 
within  the  Russian  Empire.  Then,  having  placed  the 
globe  and  sceptre  on  the  cushions  held  in  readiness  by  the 
officials,  he  called  the  Empress.  With  stately  step,  and 
clothed  with  a  simple  grace  and  beauty  more  rich  than  all 
the  gold  and  gems  by  which  she  was  surrounded,  the  young 
Empress  took  her  place  before  her  husband,  and  kneeled 
down  with  a  devout  air  to  await  her  coronation  at  his 
hands.  The  Emperor,  having  first  touched  the  brow  of 
the  Empress  with  his  own  crown,  as  a  sign  of  her  partner- 
ship in  that  crown,  then  crowned  her  with  the  coronet 
of  diamonds  which  had  been  especially  made  for  her.  The 
crown  and  imperial  mantle  having  been  adjusted  by  the 


128  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Ladies  of  Honour,,  the  Archdeacon  then  proclaimed  in  a 
loud  voice  all  the  titles  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress.,  in- 
toning the  line,  Domine,  Salvem  fac  Imperatorem  and 
Domine,  Salvem  fac  Imperatricem.  This  is  intoned  three 
times,  and  is  responded  to  by  the  choir,  with  the  words 
Ad  multos  annos.  At  this  all  the  bells  within  and  with- 
out the  Kremlin  were  set  to  ringing.  One  hundred  and 
one  guns  were  fired  as  an  imperial  salute,  and  the  multi- 
tude took  up  the  paean  of  rejoicing,  for  the  Tsar  was 
crowned  at  last,  and  the  throne  of  Russia  was  once  more 
filled. 

And  now  perhaps  the  most  solemn  and  really  impres- 
sive moment  of  the  entire  celebration  had  arrived.  The 
Emperor  uttered  a  prayer  for  himself  and  his  people,  of 
which  I  give  here  the  translation: 

"  0  Lord  God  of  our  fathers,  and  supreme  Ruler  of 
Sovereigns,  who  hast  created  everything  by  Thy  word, 
and  in  Thy  wisdom  hast  set  up  man  that  he  may  govern 
the  world  in  holiness  and  righteousness;  Thou  hast  chosen 
me  as  Tsar  and  judge  of  the  people.  I  confess  Thy  in- 
scrutable providence  with  regard  to  me;  and  in  giving 
thanks,  bow  down  before  Thy  Majesty,  and  Thou,  my 
Lord  and  God,  instruct  me  in  the  work  for  which  Thou 
hast  sent  me;  enlighten  my  path  and  direct  me  in  this 
great  ministry;  let  the  wisdom  of  Thy  throne  abide  with 
me,  send  it  down  from  Thy  holy  heavens,  that  I  may  know 
what  is  pleasing  in  Thy  eyes,  and  what  is  in  accordance 
with  Thy  commandments.  Let  my  heart  be  in  Thy  hand, 
that  I  may  order  everything  to  the  advantage  of  the  people 
intrusted  to  me,  and  to  Thy  glory,  so  that  even  on  the 
Day  of  Judgment  I  may  without  condemnation  render  my 
account  to  Thee;  by  the  mercy  and  bounty  of  Thy  only 
begotten  Son,  with  whom,  and  with  Thy  holy  and  good 
life-giving  Spirit,  Thou  art  blessed  unto  the  ages.  Amen." 

This  prayer  concluded,  the  Emperor  stood  alone,  and, 
figuratively,  at  least,  all  Russia  knelt,  while  the  Metro- 
politan offered  prayers  for  the  long  life  and  prosperity 
of  the  Tsar  and  his  Empress. 

And  before  the  pathetic  solemnity   of  this  moment 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  129 

all  the  ceremonial  fades  away.  The  booming  of  thousands 
of  cannon,  the  ringing  of  thousands  of  bells,  the  chanting 
of  choirs,  the  waving  of  flags,  the  cheering  of  a  million 
throats  may  blazon  forth  the  fact,  but  they  can  not  add  to 
the  majestic  significance  of  that  moment,  when  the  Tsar, 
pale,  and  perhaps  nervous,  stood,  a  solitary  figure,  within 
the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption,  while  all  within  the 
sacred  building  were  prostrate,  invoking  Heaven's  blessing 
on  his  reign — an  invocation  echoed  and  re-echoed  in  thou- 
sands of  Eussian  homes  and  millions  of  Eussian  hearts. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   CEOWNING   OF   A   TSAE. 

BEFOEE  taking  tip  the  legend  at  the  point  where  I 
dropped  it  in  the  last  chapter,  it  may  interest  the  reader 
to  interweave  a  sentence  or  two  about  the  Cathedral  of  the 
Assumption,  in  which  the  coronation  took  place.  There 
are  within  the  Kremlin,  let  me  say,  a  half  dozen  cathedrals, 
a  dozen  or  more  special  chapels,  a  monastery,  a  convent, 
an  arsenal,  and  the  splendid  Imperial  Treasury.  A  de- 
scription in  detail  of  any  one  of  these  would  fill  a  good- 
sized  volume,  and  would  besides,  I  fear,  prove  rather  dry- 
as-dust  reading.  So  much,  however,  has  been  said  and 
written  of  late  about  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption, 
that  I  shall  be  easily  forgiven  for  giving  at  this  point 
some  slight  description  of  it. 

Unpenski  Sobor,  as  the  cathedral  is  called  in  Russian, 
was  built  early  in  the  fourteenth  century  by  the  Metro- 
politan Peter,  who  lies  buried  within  its  walls  in  a  place 
of  honour.  It  is  of  massive,  costly,  and  magnificent  con- 
struction. As  to  size  it  can  not  vie  with  many  other 
sacred  shrines  in  Russia;  but,  as  the  burial-place  for  many 
decades  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Church,  and  as  the  scene  of 
all  Russian  coronations  since  that  of  Ivan  the  Terrible, 
it  is  held  in  peculiar  sanctity  by  the  Russians,  and  con- 
tains in  the  way  of  jewels,  gold  and  silver  ornamentations, 
precious  robes,  holy  relics,  paintings,  and  sculpture,  riches 
which  would  form  the  ransom  of  many  kings.  The  build- 
ing stands  almost  in  the  centre  of  the  space  inclosed  by 
the  Kremlin.  The  doors  through  which  the  Tsar  and 
Tsaritsa  entered  are  surrounded  and  adorned  with  sacred 

130 


Place  of  Coronation. 
Interior  of  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assurnption,  Moscow. 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR. 

pictures  and  images,  to  which  they  addressed  their  first 
genuflexions  upon  entering  the  sacred  shrine.  It  is  here 
that  they  were  met  by  the  three  leading  Metropolitans 
of  the  Church,  and  welcomed  with  significant  rites  to  their 
coronation.  Standing  within  these  doors,  the  scene  is 
one  of  resplendent  magnificence.  On  every  side  are  paint- 
ings of  sacred  subjects  framed  in  precious  stones  and 
metals.  Upon  a  screen  which  faces  the  spectator  as  he 
enters,  and  which  is  seen  at  a  distance  through  a  vista 
of  golden  columns  decorated  with  elaborate  frescoes,  is 
the  celebrated  picture  of  the  Virgin  brought  from  Con- 
stantinople in  the  twelfth  century,  to  which  wonderful 
and  miraculous  powers  have  been  ascribed.  Its  frame 
alone  is  decorated  with  jewels  to  the  value  of  $250,000, 
among  them  being  a  matchless  emerald  valued  at  $50,000. 
Immediately  in  the  centre  of  the  space  formed  by  the  four 
columns  which  support  the  roof  of  the  body  of  the  build- 
ing is  the  platform  on  which  all  the  Tsars  are  crowned. 
In  front  of  this  are  the  "Royal  Doors,"  through  which 
the  Tsar  enters  to  receive  the  sacrament  and  to  be  anointed. 
At  this  function  the  Tsar  is  surrounded  by  the  highest 
nobles  and  officials  of  his  Empire.  Before  him  is  the  altar 
with  its  varied,  sacred,  and  priceless  adornments,  and 
almost  at  his  feet  the  throng  of  ecclesiastics  of  every  rank 
who  take  more  or  less  important  parts  in  the  ceremony. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  exaggerate  to  one  who  has 
never  seen  it  the  magnificence  or  value  of  this  splendid 
fane.  But  above  this  one  should  remember  that  to  the 
devout  Eussian  the  very  ground  on  which  it  stands  is 
sacred.  Westminster  Abbey,  with  its  wealth  of  sacred 
dust,  its  resplendent  record  of  literary,  military,  diplo- 
matic, and  patriotic  fame,  is  significant,  indeed,  to  every 
member  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  The  Cathedral  of  the 
Assumption  occupies  in  Russian  thought  an  even  more 
sublime  eminence;  for  here  not  only  lie  the  famous  and 
holy  dead,  but  here  are  those  emblems  of  the  faith  and 
relics  of  miraculous  interposition  on  behalf  of  Holy  Rus- 
sia, which  lend  to  the  building  and  all  within  it  a  super- 
natural glory  to  the  faithful,  and  give  a  promise  of  pro- 


132  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

tection  and  guidance  in  the  future  for  all  within  the  sacred 
fold  of  the  Greek  Church.  One  needs  to  wrench  himself 
loose  from  his  Western  ideas,  to  separate  himself  from 
modernism,  and  to  plunge  reverently  back  into  mediseval- 
ism  before  he  can  place  himself  en  rapport  with  such  a 
scene  and  such  a  shrine.  For  my  part,  as  I  gazed  I  won- 
dered. But  there — what  I  wondered,  and  what  the  re- 
sult of  my  wonderings  was,  would  prove  of  little  interest 
to  any  save  myself. 

I  left  the  Tsar  in  the  last  chapter  at  that  point  in  the 
coronation  ceremonies  where  he  stood  a  solitary  figure, 
while  all  about  him  were  prostrate  in  prayer  on  his  behalf. 
Immediately  after  this  the  Metropolitans  and  officiating 
priests  bowed  their  congratulations  to  the  Emperor,  the 
choir  chanted  the  Te  Deum,  and  the  bells  of  all  the 
churches  within  the  Kremlin  announced  again  to  the 
world  that  the  actual  crowning  was  finished.  Then  the 
Emperor  removed  his  crown — which,  to  tell  the  truth, 
bears  the  appearance  of  being  a  heavy  load — and  did  not 
put  it  on  again  until  the  end  of  the  liturgy.  Mass  was 
now  intoned;  after  the  reading  of  the  Gospel,  the  Metro- 
politan presented  the  sacred  book  to  the  Tsar  to  be 
kissed  and  then  the  Civil  Governor  of  Moscow — the  Grand 
Duke  Serge — assisted  by  two  aides-de-camp,  stretched  a 
roll  of  cloth  of  gold  and  crimson  velvet  from  the  platform 
of  the  throne  to  the  "  Eoyal  Doors "  of  the  sanctuary, 
through  which  the  Emperor  was  to  pass.  He  spread  it  as 
far  as  the  door,  where  he  stopped,  the  Archdeacon  taking 
up  the  task  by  spreading  it  through  the  doors,  and  up  to 
the  very  altar  where  the  Tsar  was  shortly  to  stand.  The 
anthem  finished,  two  Archbishops,  assisted  by  Arch- 
deacons, advanced  toward  his  Majesty,  and  announced  that 
the  holy  ceremony  of  anointment  was  to  commence.  The 
Emperor,  handing  his  sword  to  one  of  his  assistants,  de- 
scended from  the  throne,  and,  walking  on  the  cloth  of 
gold,  approached  the  door  of  the  sanctuary,  followed  at 
a  short  distance  by  the  Empress.  His  Majesty  was  accom- 
panied by  the  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies,  the  Grand 
Marshal  of  the  Court,  several  of  the  dignitaries  who  had  car- 


The  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption,  in  the  Kremlin,  Moscow, 
the  place  of  coronation  of  the  Emperors  of  Russia. 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  133 

ried  the  insignia,  and  two  officers  of  the  Chevalier  Guards, 
the  Empress  being  followed  by  ladies  of  her  suite. 

The  Emperor  alone  passed  into  the  sanctuary,  where 
he  was  met  by  the  Metropolitan.  The  Empress  remained 
at  the  door,  for  beyond  the  threshold  no  woman  may  pass. 
The  different  officials  ranged  themselves  on  either  side, 
and  waited  in  reverent  silence  for  the  return  of  the  Em- 
peror. Within  the  sanctuary  the  Emperor  was  received 
by  the  Metropolitan  of  St.  Petersburg,  who  anointed  him 
on  the  forehead,  eyelids,  nostrils,  lips,  ears,  chest,  and 
hands,  pronouncing  the  words,  Impressio  doni  Spiritus 
Sancti.  The  Metropolitan  of  Kieff  removed  the  vestiges 
of  the  holy  oil,  and,  in  obedience  to  a  secret  signal,  all  the 
bells  of  all  the  churches  again  broke  forth,  this  time  to 
the  accompaniment  of  an  imperial  salute  of  one  hundred 
and  one  guns.  The  Empress  next  approached  the  door 
of  the  sanctuary,  and  was  there  anointed  by  the  same 
officiant,  but  on  the  forehead  only.  After  this  the  Em- 
peror received  the  Holy  Communion;  and  then  their 
Majesties  returned  to  the  thrones  and  resumed  their 
places. 

This  was  the  point  in  the  ceremony  which,  next  to  the 
crowning  of  the  Tsaritsa,  presented  the  most  human  and 
touching  aspect,  for  it  was  then  that  the  various  mem- 
bers of  the  court  presented  their  felicitations  upon  the 
consummation  which  had  been  so  splendidly  and  withal 
so  wearily  reached.  There  were  many  glistening  eyes  among 
the  august  persons  who  in  slow  procession  moved  forward 
to  add  their  good  wishes  to  the  multitude  which  had  gone 
before.  The  poor  Emperor  appeared  very  weary,  as  well 
he  might;  but  his  lip  trembled  as  he  turned  to  receive 
the  embrace  of  the  mother  whose  memories  must  have 
been  so  sad,  and  for  whom  many  an  unheard  benediction  was 
uttered  at  the  moment.  The  sweet  young  Empress,  too, 
seemed  touched  almost  to  the  point  of  tears,  as  one  per- 
sonage after  the  other  bowed  to  her  felicitations  and 
homage;  but  as  she  stood  there  in  all  the  glory  of  ermine 
and  gold  and  gems,  with  an  almost  saintly  expression  on 
her  face,  she  looked  truly  an  empress! 


134  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  crowning  of  a  Tsar  is  what  we 
should  call  in  America  "  a  long-drawn-out  affair."  And 
yet,  so  interwoven  are  Church  and  State  in  Russia,  that 
every  item  of  the  function  has  its  traditional  significance, 
and  not  a  single  detail  of  the  long  succession  of  ceremony 
could  be  omitted. 

The  ceremonies  in  the  cathedral  being  finished  in  due 
form,  with  a  nice  observance  of  etiquette  and  the  delibera- 
tion of  dignity,  the  procession  filed  back  to  the  palace; 
but  on  the  way  it  wound  in  and  out  among  the  different 
buildings  of  the  Kremlin,  for  the  purpose,  I  thought  at 
the  time,  of  affording  all  the  vast  multitude  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  and  doing  reverence  to  the  newly  crowned 
Tsar.  But  I  afterward  discovered  that  I  was  mistaken, 
and  thai  it  was  part  and  parcel  of  the  coronation  for  the 
Tsar  to  visit,  before  re-entering  the  palace,  two  other 
cathedrals,  and  to  go  through  certain  supplementary  cere- 
monies in  these.  The  first  was  the  Cathedral  of  the  Arch- 
angel Michael.  At  the  entrance  the  Emperor  and  Em- 
press were  met  by  his  Highness  the  Bishop  of  Kostroma 
and  his  assistant  clergy,  who  offered  to  their  Majesties 
the  golden  cross  and  the  holy  water.  After  this,  the  Em- 
peror, having  removed  his  crown  and  passed  the  sceptre 
and  globe  to  the  officials,  made  a  circuit  of  the  cathedral, 
offering  homage  to  the  images  of  the  saints  and  the  sacred 
relics,  and  at  the  tombs  of  his  ancestors.  The  Arch- 
deacon read  a  litany  to  which  the  response  was  intoned, 
Ad  multos  annos.  So  I  take  it  that  the  burden  of  the 
prayers  offered  here  was  for  the  long  life  and  welfare  of 
the  Tsar  and  his  consort.  Having  completoc1  the  circuit 
of  this  cathedral,  their  Majesties,  all  the  time  accom- 
panied by  the  same  brilliant  cortege,  next  entered  the 
Cathedral  of  the  Annunciation,  where  they  were  received 
by  his  Highness  the  Archbishop  of  Kherson.  Here  the 
same  ceremonial  was  repeated. 

It  was  as  the  procession  left  this  cathedral  that  the 
members  of  the  Corps  Diplomatique,  who  had  remained 
in  the  tribune  set  apart  for  them,  caught  the  best  view  of 
its  magnificence.  The  Emperor,  robed  and  crowned,  pre- 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  135 

ceded  by  soldiers  of  the  superb  Guards,  sheltered  by  a 
resplendent  palanquin,  made  his  way  back  to  the  palace, 
closely  followed  by  the  Empress.  The  crown  he  wore  is 
that  of  Peter  I,  surmounted  by  a  diamond  cross  rising 
from  the  centre  of  an  uncut  ruby.  It  is  said  that  this 
crown  contains  over  nine  hundred  diamonds,  besides  large 
numbers  of  pearls,  and  what  is  supposed  to  be  the  largest 
ruby  in  the  world.  The  orb,  which  he  carried  in  his  left 
hand,  is  splendidly  decorated  with  diamonds  set  in  two 
bands  encircling  it  at  right  angles.  At  the  centre  of  the 
top  or  vertical  band,  equidistant  from  all  points  of  the 
other  or  horizontal  band,  is  a  large  sapphire  surmounted 
by  a  diamond  cross.  The  sceptre  is  chiefly  remarkable 
for  the  magnificent  gem  at  the  top,  known  as  the  Orloff 
diamond,  which,  even  in  an  ordinary  photograph,  shines 
above  all  the  other  gems. 

The  effect  of  the  procession  at  this  point  was  rich  and 
imposing  beyond  the  reach  of  exaggeration.  The  palan- 
quin under  which  the  Emperor  walked  was  richly  covered 
with  velvet  and  cloth  of  gold,  surmounted  by  plumes  of 
ostrich  feathers  in  three  colours — black,  white,  and  yel- 
low. This  was  supported  at  intervals  by  lances  of  ebony 
and  mother  of  pearl,  and  held  firmly  by  golden  cords. 
The  palanquin  and  cords  were  carried  and  held  respective- 
ly by  sixteen  aides-de-camp  generals  of  the  highest  rank 
in  the  imperial  service.  The  Emperor  looked  tired,  and, 
I  have  no  doubt,  felt  so;  for  the  mere  watching  of  the 
ceremonial  during  four  or  five  seemingly  interminable 
hours  had  been  extremely  fatiguing.  The  same  cheers 
and  cannonading  and  ringing  of  bells  which  had  marked 
his  journey  to  the  cathedral  and  accentuated  the  principal 
point  in  the  service  accompanied  his  return;  only  that  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Eussians  seemed  even  greater  than  be- 
fore. At  the  foot  of  the  Eed  Stairs  their  Majesties  left 
the  shelter  of  the  palanquin  and  slowly  mounted  the  steps, 
stopping  to  turn  at  the  summit  and  bow  their  appreciation 
of  the  enthusiasm  which  was  now  at  white  heat.  My 
friends  have  asked  me  since  whom  I  considered  the  most 
beautiful  woman  I  saw  at  the  coronation.  I  can  answer 
10 


136  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

them  at  this  point  by  saying  that  when  the  young  Empress 
turned  to  acknowledge  the  applause  of  her  people,  and 
stood  clothed  in  her  royal  robes,  and  glistening  with  in- 
numerable gems,  I  thought  that  there  might  be  a  more 
beautiful  woman  in  Moscow,  but  that  I  had  not  seen  her. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  comfort  of  those  who 
had  during  all  these  hours  to  wait  outside  the  cathedral 
for  the  return  of  the  Emperor  had  been  neglected.  In 
the  various  tribunes  an  appetizing  and  generous  dejeuner 
had  been  served,  consisting  of  sandwiches,  pastries,  ices, 
tea,  and  champagne,  to  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  limit. 
So  that  although  those  not  favoured  with  entrance  to 
the  cathedral  had  a  long  wait,  they  managed  to  pass  the 
time  in  comfort  and  pleasant  conversation. 

Entering  the  palace,  their  Majesties  removed  their 
crowns,  the  Emperor  resigned  the  sceptre  and  globe  to 
the  appointed  dignitaries,  and  both  then  retired  to  their 
private  apartments.  We  will  not  seek  to  follow  them, 
or  to  analyze  their  emotions  in  this  surely  needed  retire- 
ment. I  have  often  been  sorry  for  public  officials  in  my 
own  country  when  placed  under  the  strain  of  enor- 
mous public  entertainments,  but  I  never  so  sincerely  sym- 
pathized with  any  one  as  I  did  with  these  two  young 
monarchs  on  the  day  of  their  coronation.  And  yet  the 
day  was  only  half  over,  for  there  was  to  be  a  solemn  state 
banquet  in  the  evening,  and  after  that  the  illuminations. 
They  had  borne  themselves  with  simplicity  and  dignity 
throughout  it  all,  and  must  have  knit  closer  to  them  the 
hearts  of  all  who  were  allowed  to  be  present;  and  now, 
in  the  retirement  of  their  own  rooms,  let  us  leave  them 
for  the  moment  on  the  threshold  of  what  every  one  hopes 
and  expects  will  be  a  long  and  glorious  reign.  Eussia  is 
just  now  more  prosperous  and  more  peaceful  than  she  has 
been  for  years.  The  restlessness  of  the  radicals  seems  to 
be  soothed,  let  us  hope  permanently.  And  let  us  wish  that 
all  friends  of  true  reform  may  find  in  the  reign  of  Nicho- 
las II  the  completion  of  all  that  is  noble  in  Eussian  his- 
tory, as  well  as  the  dawn  of  an  era  of  development  and 
advancement. 


i§ 


i 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  TSAR.  137 

Nicholas  II  begins  his  reign  with  the  good  wishes  of 
the  entire  world.  Monarchies,  empires,  and  republics, 
alike,  united  to  wish  him  ~bon  voyage  on  his  momentous 
journey.  From  Germany,  from  France,  from  the  vener- 
able Queen  who  has  reigned  longest  in  the  history  of  Eng- 
land's throne,  from  our  own  President,  and  from  many 
other  rulers  of  nations,  great  and  small,  he  received  mes- 
sages of  warmest  greeting;  and  above  all,  the  great  heart 
of  the  common  people  with  a  single  impulse  felt  that  it 
has  in  the  kindly,  smiling  face  of  this  youthful  Tsar  the 
promise  of  a  reign  beneficent  and  just.  He  begins  his 
reign  with  a  mind  well  endowed  with  all  that  modern 
education  and  foreign  travel  can  do  to  widen  and  to  en- 
rich his  outlook  upon  life;  he  has  the  history  of  the  past 
to  govern  his  thought  of  the  future;  he  has  by  his  side 
a  wife  as  sweet  and  queenly  as  any  woman  in  the  wide 
world;  and  with  all  these  he  has  the  splendid  generous 
impulse  which  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  we  live  gives 
to  any  man  that  seeks  it — a  spirit  of  brotherhood,  of 
catholicity,  of  high  endeavour,  and  of  lofty  ambition. 
His  power  for  good  is  simply  enormous.  He  can  preserve 
the  peace  of  nations  or  he  can  destroy  it.  He  can  bring 
prosperity  and  enlightenment  to  his  subject,  he  can  strew 
his  pathway  wherever  he  goes  with  the  blessings  of  those 
he  has  blessed.  And  as  he  stood  solitary  in  that  great 
scene  in  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption,  while  all  else 
knelt  in  prayer  for  him,  both  he  and  they  must  have  real- 
ized that  never  was  opportunity  more  regal  bestowed  upon 
man;  and  as  his  subjects  looked  in  his  face,  they  must 
have  thought  that  never  was  man  more  likely  to  turn 
into  glorious  fruition  the  highest  hopes  and  prayers  of 
all  the  myriad  hearts  turned  toward  him. 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

AN   IMPEKIAL  FEAST. 

AND  now  to  dinner,  for  even  kings  and  emperors 
must  descend  from  the  lofty  heights  of  statecraft  and  the 
splendour  of  civic  function  to  the  commonplace  occupa- 
tion of  satisfying  the  inner  man.  And  yet  they  dine  by 
rote — at  least  they  did  at  the  coronation  of  the  Tsar. 
As  at  the  coronation  itself,  here  everything  was  prear- 
ranged; and  the  result  was  that  this  enormous  function 
passed  off  without  the  slightest  friction  or  mistake  of  any 
kind.  It  will  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  perfection 
of  arrangement  and  detail  when  I  say  that  at  the  corona- 
tion banquet  there  sat  down  the  large  number  of  eighteen 
hundred  guests;  that  to  serve  these  there  was  a  retinue 
of  forty-five  hundred  servants — all  of  them  the  regular 
servants  of  the  Tsar;  and  that  the  banquet  went  through 
from  beginning  to  end  as  a  well-ordered  dinner  would  at 
any  private  house  in  London  or  New  York.  But  this  was 
so  on  every  hand  in  Russia.  Wherever  large  numbers  of 
men  were  employed,  there  was  the  most  perfect  discipline, 
the  most  complete  submission  to  authority — the  result 
being,  of  course,  good  and  efficient  service. 

The  Granovitaya  Palata,  or  Palace  of  Facets,  was 
where  the  Emperor  took  his  coronation  dinner.  It  takes 
its  name  from  the  peculiar  facets  which  are  presented  by 
the  surfaces  of  its  walls,  and  is  certainly  one  of  the  most 
interesting  buildings  within  the  Kremlin,  when  judged 
from  the  standpoint  of  historical  association,  from  the 
nature  and  value  of  its  contents,  and  from  its  ancient 
and  remarkable  appearance.  The  principal  hall,  which  is 

138 


AN  IMPE1UAL  FEAST.  139 

used  for  the  coronation  banquets  of  the  Tsars,  is  unique. 
Its  vaulted  ceiling  spreads,  umbrella-like,  from  a  central 
column  and  is  richly  decorated  with  religious  and  allegor- 
ical frescoes.  The  prevailing  tones  are  purple  and  gold, 
but  in  the  frescoes  of  the  ceiling  and  walls  bright  blues 
and  flaming  scarlets  are  introduced,  greatly  to  the  enliven- 
ing of  the  scene.  At  the  base  of  this  column  and  all  about 
it  are  shelves,  upon  which  on  state  occasions  the  imperial 
plate,  or  part  of  it,  is  displayed.  I  say  part  of  it  advisedly,  for 
it  would  certainly  take  many  such  rooms  to  exhibit  all  the 
gold  and  silver  services  of  the  Emperor.  The  floor  is  of  rich 
and  beautifully  arranged  marbles.  In  the  corner  stands  the 
throne  (upon  this  occasion,  however,  there  were  three 
thrones)  on  a  canopied  dais;  and  it  was  on  this  platform 
that  Nicholas  II  dined  in  great  state  after  the  ceremony 
of  his  coronation.  Beside  him  sat,  on  his  right  hand,  his 
mother,  and  on  his  left  -hand  the  Tsaritsa.  But  I  am 
anticipating. 

At  the  appointed  hour — or  as  near  thereafter  as  possible 
— the  Emperor  and  Empress  entered  the  Throne  Eoom, 
and,  assuming  the  insignia  which  they  had  laid  aside, 
crowned  and  sceptred,  proceeded  to  the  banquet  hall  just 
described.  With  them  entered  the  Dowager  Empress. 
They  were  accompanied  by  chamberlains,  court  marshals, 
aides  and  officers  of  the  Chevalier  Guards,  and  behind 
these  followed  the  brilliant  company  of  kings,  queens, 
and  nobles  of  every  degree,  whose  privilege  it  was  either 
to  take  part  in  the  entire  banquet  or  to  be  present  at  its 
opening.  For  not  every  one  that  sees  a  Tsar  start  his  din- 
ner stays  for  the  almonds  and  raisins.  But  of  that  anon. 
Most  of  the  guests  and  officials,  after  accompanying  the 
imperial  cortege  to  the  Granovitaya  Palata,  made  profound 
obeisances,  and  passed  on  to  the  Hall  of  St.  Vladimir, 
where  they  were  separately  dined;  for  only  the  very  dis- 
tinguished are  privileged  to  eat  in  the  actual  presence 
of  the  Tsar  upon  this  august  occasion. 

The  Diplomatic  Corps,  the  Holy  Synod,  the  high 
clergy,  and  the  highest  of  the  court  ladies,  who  had  been 
invited  to  the  banquet,  gathered  at  the  palace  before  the 


140  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

appearance  of  the  Emperor,,  and  stood  waiting  to  welcome 
his  Majesty  formally  to  the  banquet  room.  The  disposi- 
tion of  the  imperial  table  was  interesting.  There  were 
three  thrones — the  centre  one  for  the  Tsar,  the  others 
for  the  two  Empresses.  On  the  platform  at  the  back  of 
the  throne  stood  the  various  officials — chamberlains  and 
marshals — whose  duty  it  was  to  be  constantly  near  the 
Emperor  upon  this  eventful  day.  The  Grand  Carver,  or 
Master  of  the  Table,  and  the  Grand  Equerry  of  the  Cup 
took  up  their  positions  on  the  floor  opposite  the  plat- 
form, and  to  the  right  and  left  respectively.  The  com- 
mander of  the  Chevalier  Guards,  with  drawn  sword  and 
helmeted,  stood  behind  the  Emperor  on  the  platform.  At 
the  foot  of  the  throne,  and  on  either  side,  stood  four 
officers  of  the  Chevalier  Guards,  also  with  drawn  swords. 
At  each  front  corner  of  the  throne  stood  two  Heralds. 
Facing  the  throne  were  the  Grand  Marshal,  the  Grand 
Marshal  of  the  Court,  the  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies, 
and  other  high  officials.  When  their  Majesties  had  as- 
cended the  throne  in  the  presence  of  this  brilliant  com- 
pany, the  Minister  of  Finance  presented  to  them  the 
medal  which  had  been  struck  in  commemoration  of  the 
event.  This  medal  was  also  distributed  among  the  in- 
vited guests  present,  and  to  those  in  the  Hall  of  St. 
Vladimir.  Then  the  actual  dinner  began.  In  the  fol- 
lowing manner  was  the  first  dish,  and,  indeed,  were  all  the 
successive  dishes,  brought  to  the  imperial  table. 

The  Arch  Grand  Marshal,  the  Grand  Marshal  of  the 
Court,  the  Arch  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies,  the  Mar- 
shal of  the  Court,  the  Grand  Masters  of  the  Coronation 
Ceremonies,  and  the  Masters  of  Ceremonies,  having  made 
a  profound  bow  to  the  Emperor,  left  the  hall  for  the 
purpose  of  ushering  in  the  first  dish,  which  was  carried, 
mark  you,  by  retired  officers  belonging  to  the  nobility  of 
Moscow.  The  dishes  made  their  appearance  after  a  short 
pause,  and  this  is  the  honourable  cortege  that  accompanied 
them:  The  Arch  Grand  Marshal,  the  Grand  Marshal  of 
the  Court,  the  Arch  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies,  and  the 
Marshal  of  the  Court,  and,  on  each  side  of  the  dishes,  two 


AN  IMPERIAL  FEAST. 

officers  of  the  Chevalier  Guards,  with  swords  drawn  and 
helmeted;  following  them  came  the  Grand  Master  of  the 
Coronation  Ceremonies  and  the  Master  of  Ceremonies. 
Surely,  this  should  be  "  a  dainty  dish "  enough  "  to  set 
before  "  an  Emperor.  When  this  dish  had  duly  arrived, 
the  Emperor  removed  his  crown,  and  I  can  imagine  him 
paraphrasing  the  line  of  Francisco  in  Hamlet  by  saying, 

For  this  relief  much  thanks ;  'tis  bitter  heavy, 
And  I  am  sick  of  it. 

Having  laid  aside  the  crown,  the  Emperor  also  resigned 
the  sceptre  and  the  globe,  and  was  then  prepared  to  prove 
himself  "a  valiant  trencher  man."  At  this  point  the 
Metropolitan  of  Moscow  said  the  appointed  grace,  and 
then  their  Imperial  Majesties  broke  their  long  fast — and 
if  by  this  time  they  wanted  their  dinners  as  badly  as  I 
wanted  mine,  I  am  sure  they  must  have  eaten  with  a  right 
good  will.  And  here  came  in  a  most  interesting  moment — 
a  moment  and  a  circumstance  which  show  from  what 
slight  beginnings  court  traditions  arise,  and,  having  arisen, 
how  they  persist.  After  the  first  course  was  finished — 
no  one  as  yet  having  sat  down  save  royalty — and  just  at 
the  moment  when  the  Emperor  was  about  to  take  his 
first  sip  of  wine,  the  high  clergy  and  other  exalted  guests 
that  are  privileged  to  eat  in  the  presence  of  the  Tsar, 
after  making  a  profound  obeisance,  took  their  places  at 
the  table.  But  the  Diplomatic  Corps  and  other  high 
guests,  who  up  to  this  point  had  been  standing  in  in- 
terested silence  watching  this  stately  ceremonial,  bowed 
profoundly,  and,  walking  backward,  quitted  the  presence 
of  the  Tsar,  and  made  their  way  to  their  own  dinner  which 
had  been  set  for  them  in  another  room.  They  only  re- 
appeared to  join  in  the  cortege  which  was  formed  to  escort 
their  Majesties  back  to  their  private  apartments.  This 
usage  arose  from  the  fact  that  an  early  Tsar  of  Eussia  was 
given  to  imbibing  too  freely  and,  not  wishing  to  be  seen 
in  an  intoxicated  state  by  foreigners  and  strangers,  ordered 
that  all  such  should  withdraw  when  he  commenced  to 
drink.  The  custom  still  remains,  although  his  inebriated 


IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Majesty  has  long  since  been  laid  beside  his  fathers  in  the 
Cathedral  of  the  Archangel  Michael. 

The  following  toasts  were  proposed  during  the  ban- 
quet in  the  Granovitaya  Palata:  First  to  his  Majesty  the 
Emperor,  and  at  the  moment  of  its  proposition  a  salute 
of  sixty-one  guns  was  fired,  so  that  all  Moscow  might, 
if  it  so  chose,  pledge  the  health  of  the  Tsar  at  the  same 
moment;  then  to  her  Majesty  the  Dowager  Empress  Marie 
Feodorovna,  a  salute  of  fifty-one  guns  being  fired;  then 
to  the  Tsaritsa,  with  a  like  salute;  and  thereafter,  in  the 
order  named,  to  the  imperial  family,  with  a  salute  of 
thirty-one  guns;  and  to  the  clergy  and  all  faithful  sub- 
jects, with  a  last  salute  of  twenty-one  guns.  The  drink- 
ing cups  were  presented  to  their  Majesties  by  the  Grand 
Cup  Bearer;  the  Chamberlains  and  the  Pages  of  the  Cham- 
ber served  at  the  table,  and  the  Grand  Cup  Bearer  pro- 
posed the  toasts,  seconded  by  a  fanfare  of  trumpets.  There 
was — for  which  the  Tsar  may  breathe  a  prayer  of  grati- 
tude— no  speech  making. 

Throughout  the  banquet  the  imperial  band  discoursed 
the  choicest  selections  of  music  from  a  raised  plat- 
form in  the  corner  of  the  room  diagonally  opposite  to 
that  occupied  by  the  imperial  family.  And  while  every- 
thing was  conducted  with  a  due  and  formal  regard  for 
the  etiquette  of  the  occasion,  there  was  an  air  of  relief 
at  the  imperial  table,  as  if  its  occupants  were  quietly  say- 
ing, "It  will  soon  be  over,"  while  the  royal  and  noble 
guests  were  quietly  jolly  among  themselves,  as  became 
the  august  and  auspicious  event. 

The  banquet  finished,  the  Emperor  reassumed  his 
crown,  sceptre,  and  globe,  and  left  the  banqueting  hall 
for  the  Throne  Room.  I  can  not  help  wondering  how 
the  ancient  Tsars  managed  to  carry  out  half  or  a  quarter 
of  this  ceremonial.  If  rumour  be  true,  they  were,  like  the 
early  Anglo-Saxon  kings,  rather  given  to  look  upon  the  wine 
when  it  was  red,  and,  if  they  managed  to  carry -the  in- 
ternal and  the  external  load  safely  from  the  Granovitaya 
Palata  back  to  the  Throne  Room,  they  must  have  been 
blessed  with  a  capacity  to  which  the  present  generation 


AN  IMPERIAL  FEAST.  143 

is  entirely  strange.  In  the  Throne  Room  the  Emperor 
laid  aside  for  the  last  time  on  his  coronation  day  the 
crown  of  Peter  I  and  the  emblems  of  his  kingship,  and, 
slipping  back  almost  into  private  life,  he,  his  mother,  and 
his  wife  made  their  way  to  their  apartments. 

I  should  like  to  know  what  the  Tsar  himself  thought 
of  it  all,  what  were  his  true  feelings,  and  whether  he  was 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  the  exalted  position  which  he 
had  just  occupied  in  all  its  completeness.  Certainly,  every 
one  else  was  loud  in  praise  of  the  dignity,  gentleness,  and 
modesty  with  which  he  carried  himself  during  one  of  the 
most  trying  days  that  mortal  could  be  called  upon  to  pass 
through.  But  what  does  lie  think  of  it?  Perhaps  some 
of  these  days  he  may  write  down  for  the  public  "  What  I 
thought  of  my  Coronation,"  as  the  Queen  of  England 
has  let  all  the  world  into  her  domestic  life  at  Balmoral. 
It  would  prove  interesting  reading.  But  I  don't  think 
I'd  try  it  if  I  were  the  Tsar.  One  half  of  the  significance 
and  value  of  a  ceremonial  consists  in  keeping  concealed 
the  strings  which  work  the  figures;  and  the  divinity  which 
doth  hedge  a  king  shines  best  through  the  glamour  of 
mystery. 

To  complete  the  record,  I  should  say  that,  aside  from 
the  royal  guests  who  had  dined  with  the  Tsar  or  in  the 
Hall  of  St.  Vladimir,  the  great  throng  of  distinguished 
guests  were  entertained  in  tents  which  had  been  set 
up  in  the  court  of  the  palace.  As  I  have  said,  eighteen 
hundred  sat  down  at  this  banquet.  To  serve  this 
host,  the  total  staff  of  the  household  of  the  Emperor 
was  brought  into  use,  the  entire  dinner  being  served 
on  gold  plate.  There  was  no  speech-making  anywhere, 
and  "good  digestion/'  which  "waits  on  appetite," 
spread  a  kindly  glow  over  the  assemblage;  every  one  was 
jolly. 

The  menu  was  in  Russian,  and  the  repast  was  as  good 
as  the  bill  was  incomprehensible.  The  fact  is,  the  dinner 
was  a  purely  French  one,  with  nothing  distinctively  Rus- 
sian about  it  except  the  place  in  which  it  was  eaten  and 
the  language  of  this  menu  which  was  placed  beside  each 


144  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

plate.    The  air  was  full  of  gladness,  the  atmosphere  was 
one  of  rejoicing  and  congratulation. 

Surely,  a  day  so  brilliant  in  every  way  called  for  a 
brilliant  termination;  and  it  had  been  prepared.  The  il- 
luminations, which  we  viewed  from  the  terrace  of  the 
Kremlin,  were  the  most  elaborate  I  have  ever  seen  at  any 
time  or  place.  I  remember  well  the  splendid  displays  pre- 
sented at  the  World's  Fair  in  Chicago,  but  I  saw  nothing 
there  at  all  equal  to  the  sight  of  Moscow  on  the  night  of 
the  coronation;  even  the  Court  of  Honour  in  its  most 
brilliant  aspect  was  but  a  feeble  flame  compared  to  this 
mammoth  spectacle.  To  say  that  the  entire  city  was  a 
blaze  of  light  is  but  to  express  feebly  the  glorious  display 
which  had  been  provided  by  the  people  of  the  ancient 
capital.  It  was  more.  It  was  a  blaze  of  fantastic  and 
scintillating  light.  On  every  hand  one  saw  lines  of  beauty 
and  grace  picked  out  with  myriads  of  illuminating  and 
varicoloured  points,  which  were  utilized  in  every  conceiv- 
able way.  Before  going  to  Moscow  I  had  heard  much 
of  its  Oriental  aspect,  but  certainly  I  could  truly  say,  as 
I  gazed  upon  the  fairy  vision  presented  to  my  view  from 
the  terrace  of  the  Kremlin,  as  the  Queen  of  Sheba  said  to 
King  Solomon,  "Not  the  half  of  all  thy  glory  had  been 
told  unto  me! "  I  had  already  seen  the  vast  preparations 
which  had  been  made  to  illuminate  the  city,  but  the  dif- 
ference between  the  preparations  and  the  thing  itself  was 
about  the  same  as  exists  between  the  costume  of  a  famous 
belle  hanging  in  her  wardrobe  and  its  splendour  when 
set  off  by  her  imperial  beauty.  Certainly,  one  could  well 
and  truly  call  Moscow  the  "  City  of  Light."  To  begin 
with  the  Kremlin.  All  the  buildings  within  it  were 
fringed  with  lines  of  light  beneath  the  cornices,  and  the 
Tower  of  Ivan,  which  rises  over  three  hundred  feet,  was 
ablaze  with  electric  lights  at  its  summit.  In  the  daytime 
this  matchless  array  of  buildings  had  been  resplendent 
with  costly  gems,  which  flashed  from  a  thousand  glitter- 
ing costumes,  from  the  frames  of  sacred  pictures  and  from 
the  imperial  insignia;  at  night  they  were  aflame  with 
bewitching  lines  of  light  which  brought  out  and  threw 


AN  IMPERIAL  FEAST.  145 

into  even  greater  beauty  every  architectural  wonder  of 
the  place.  And  beyond,  Moscow  was  spread  as  a  vision  of 
that  celestial  city  toward  which  the  thoughts  of  the  faith- 
ful had  been  so  constantly  turned  by  priestly  admonition 
through  all  the  long  and  sinuous  ceremonial  of  the  day. 
Moscow  will  be  a  permanent  gainer  by  the  coronation., 
for  in  preparation  for  it  there  had  been  a  universal 
freshening  and  decoration  of  all  buildings,  public  and 
private.  As  one  approaches  Moscow  by  day,  it  offers  to 
the  eye  a  scene  of  which  I  can  suggest  no  equivalent. 
Colour,  colour,  colour!  And  everywhere  still  colour! 
Domes  of  colour  against  backgrounds  of  resplendent 
greens  and  matchless  purples,  scarlet,  yellow,  and,  indeed, 
every  other  hue  of  which  the  eye  kens  or  the  heart  dreams. 
I  used  to  think  when  I  was  a  boy  that  the  visions  of 
Lalla  Eookh  drawn  by  the  pen  of  Moore  were  but  the 
creations  of  the  fantastic  imagination  of  a  fevered  poet; 
but  when  I  first  looked  upon  Moscow,  I  said  that  Lalla 
Eookh  is  the  positive  degree  of  which  Moscow  is  the 
superlative.  And  at  night,  when  all  these  colours  were 
enriched  and  deepened,  when  the  golden  domes  reflected 
back  the  myriad  lights  by  which  they  were  encircled,  when 
the  soft  and  shimmering  glow  melted  the  differing  colours 
into  a  woof  so  dazzling,  so  bewildering,  so  indescribable, 
that  one  stood  enraptured  before  it,  I  felt  that  I  beheld 
a  spectacle  which  would  have  challenged  the  most  au- 
dacious pen  and  would  have  received  no  answering  taunt. 
A  merchant  of  Moscow,  who  was  asked  during  the 
ceremonies,  "  How  much  will  the  decorations  cost  the 
city?"  replied  with  some  pride,  "It  does  not  matter,  we 
have  placed  no  limit  on  the  expense;  we  are  rich  enough 
to  pay  the  bill  whatever  it  is,  and  are  more  than  willing." 
It  was  this  spirit  which  for  the  moment  emphasized  the 
ever  permanent  beauty  of  the  place.  All  Moscow  was 
new — at  least  as  to  the  outside.  Everywhere  the  houses 
had  been  recoloured,  and  the  city  might  have  stood  as  the 
creation  of  that  invincible  Eussian  monarch,  Peter  the 
Great,  who  ordered  a  new  capital  to  be  built  for  him, 
and  when  he  returned  from  his  shipbuilding  apprentice- 


146  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

ship  complained  that  it  was  not  yet  finished.  About  the 
entire  city  there  was  no  appearance  of  age,  except  as  to 
form.  The  surface  of  all  was  new  and  fresh  and  bright 
and  beautiful;  and  only  the  marvellous  varieties  of  form 
suggested  a  city  built  by  different  architects  from  various 
climes,  in  widely  separated  epochs. 

I  have  already  described  the  decorations  of  the  city 
along  the  route  followed  by  the  Tsar  upon  his  entry,  and 
will  here  only  specify  some  of  the  leading  illuminations 
of  the  coronation  night.  There  were  no  fireworks — no 
"pyrotechnics" — in  our  western  sense.  The  city  was 
ablaze,  but  it  was  quietly  ablaze.  The  rocket  was  con- 
spicuous by  its  absence;  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  the 
mind  of  the  spectator.  It  might  have  been  some  mirage 
lit  at  every  salient  point  by  the  pearls,  rubies,  diamonds, 
and  sapphires  of  the  Orient.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  most 
of  this  impression  was  produced  by  millions  and  millions 
of  candles  held  in  globes  of  different-coloured  glass,  and 
affixed  to  every  possible  coign  of  vantage.  Everywhere 
one  saw  the  arms  of  Eussia,  and  everywhere  else  the  sig- 
nificant initials  N"  and  A,  written  in  letters  of  light.  May 
they  never  be  written  otherwise.  On  some  of  the  more 
conspicuous  buildings  there  were  ambitious  set  pieces,  not 
to  burn  but  a  few  minutes  and  then  leave  enhanced  gloom 
behind  them,  but  to  burn  on  and  on  till  all  Moscow  had 
fallen  asleep  bathed  in  the  soft  and  sensuous  glow.  On 
the  Noblesse  Club,  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in  Moscow, 
there  was  an  enormous  crystal  crown  flanked  by  the  ini- 
tials of  the  Tsar  and  of  the  Tsaritsa.  On  the  Opera  House 
the  decorations  of  light  were  peculiarly  grand  and  impos- 
ing. All  the  lines  of  the  building  had  been  brought  out 
by  thousands  of  candles,  which  clung  like  an  embroidery 
of  diamonds  to  its  splendid  proportions;  at  each  corner 
of  the  fagade  were  great  flaming  torches,  like  enormous 
beacon  lights;  and  behind  the  figure  of  Phaeton  whipping 
his  fiery-footed  steeds  was  a  gigantic  sun  which  threw 
that  mythological  charioteer  into  unwonted  splendour  and 
unusual  proportions.  The  famous  Eed  Gate,  erected  by 
the  merchants  of  Moscow  to  commemorate  a  past  corona- 


AN  IMPERIAL  FEAST.  147 

tion,  was  decorated  entirely  with  red  lights,  and  the  figure 
of  Fame  on  its  summit  might  have  stood  for  a  gentle  but 
fiery  companion  to  the  traditional  scarlet  Mephisto.  All 
the  embassies  were  decorated  splendidly,  save  one,  and  I 
regret  to  say  that  it  was  that  of  my  own  country.  The 
Persian  Embassy  and  the  German  Embassy  were  pecul- 
iarly beautiful,  although  the  former  was,  perhaps,  a  shade 
too  delicate  for  the  very  strong  and  high  colours  by  which 
it  was  surrounded.  The  outlines  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville 
were  emphasized  with  pure  white  lights,  which  showed 
its  fine  proportions  most  admirably;  and,  in  brief,  there 
was  not  a  prominent  public  building  in  Moscow  which 
was  not  displayed  to  the  very  utmost  advantage.  The 
word  had  been  given  to  "  decorate,"  and  the  city  had 
decorated.  It  was  almost  pathetic  to  observe  the  dwellings 
of  some  of  the  poorer  classes  in  the  obscure  portions  of 
the  city.  They  were  all  lit  up  in  honour  of  the  Great 
White  Tsar,  and  I  thought  the  few  candles  which  illumi- 
nated the  tiny  dwelling  of  some  wage-earner  a  much 
more  precious  gem  in  the  diadem  of  the  young  Emperor 
than  all  the  blazing  lights  of  the  grander  buildings,  or 
the  shimmering  jewels  with  which  he  had  been  clothed. 
The  widow's  mite  was  not  absent  from  the  fete  of  Nicho- 
las II. 

If  I  have  failed  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
kaleidoscopic  panorama,  I  am  at  least  resigned,  for  I  have 
yet  to  see  the  spectator  of  the  ceremonies  who  felt  at  all 
equal  to  setting  down  on  paper  anything,  like  a  complete 
account  of  it.  The  difficulty  is  that  to  the  writer  no  lan- 
guage seems  opulent  enough  to  portray  so  delightful  a 
spectacle,  while  to  the  reader  the  constant  iteration  of 
superlatives  becomes  tedious.  I  have  heard  those  who 
have  looked  upon  the  Taj  Mahal  in  all  its  glory  by  the 
pale  light  of  the  moon  declare  that  in  that  surpassing 
vision  they  were  repaid  for  all  the  weary  journey  which 
a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Tomb  involves.  They  tell  me 
that,  as  one  looks  for  the  first  time  upon  the  marble 
mausoleum  of  that  dead  beauty  of  the  East,  he  catches  his 
breath  in  ecstatic  pain.  I  can  believe  it  now.  I  said  to 


148  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

myself,  "  Live  I  a  thousand  years,  I  shall  not  look  upon  the 
like  again." 

During  the  evening  the  young  couple  walked  quietly 
about  the  terrace,  gazing  with  evident  admiration  and 
keenest  interest  upon  the  indescribable  sight  of  this  an- 
cient city  glowing  with  light  and  love  for  them.  And  in 
the  streets  thousands  upon  thousands  of  carriages  were 
formed  in  line  and  compelled  to  travel  only  in  one  direc- 
tion, and  then  to  make  the  return  journey  by  another 
route.  To  say  that  the  people  were  wild  with  excitement 
would  be  true;  but  it  would  scarcely  describe  the  pent- 
up,  well-suppressed  excitement  and  enthusiasm  which 
marked  the  occasion  and  differentiated  it  from  everything 
of  the  kind  I  had  ever  seen  before.  Every  one  for  once 
was  happy,  or  appeared  to  be  so.  The  carriages  of  the 
nobles,  full  of  laughing  and  merry  occupants,  jostled, 
but  gently,  the  happy  peasants  and  pilgrims  and  moujiks 
who  thronged  the  streets.  Even  the  isvoschiks  and  the 
policemen  seemed  to  have  caught  the  hilarious  mood,  and 
it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  this  was  Joyful  Eussia 
indeed. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  COSSACKS  AND   LI   HUNG  CHANG. 

ON  the  22d  of  May — the  day  after  his  solemn  entry 
into  Moscow — the  Tsar  received  all  the  ambassadors, 
ministers,  and  other  distinguished  guests  from  foreign 
countries  in  the  Palace  of  the  Kremlin.  In  speaking  of 
the  representatives  of  foreign  nations,  I  shall  be  forgiven, 
I  am  sure,  by  every  patriotic  American,  if  I  comment 
upon  the  fact  that  the  display  made  by  our  own  Government 
at  the  crowning  of  the  Tsar  was  quite  out  of  proportion 
to  the  size,  importance,  and  wealth  of  the  United  States. 
Add  to  this  the  facts  that  Russia  is  a  country  with  which 
we  have  always  lived  on  terms  of  cordial  amity,  and  that 
it  was  the  only  one  of  all  Europe  which  maintained  a 
friendly  and  sympathetic  attitude  to  us  during  our  own 
internecine  strife,  and  I  think  it  will  be  agreed  that  we 
might  have  been  much  more  liberal  in  our  representation 
and  expenditure  at  this  function  without  compromising 
in  the  least  our  position  as  a  republic,  or  our  neutrality 
regarding  foreign  affairs.  Our  Minister  at  the  Imperial 
Court,  the  Honourable  Clifton  R.  Breckinridge,  is  a  de- 
lightful and  thoroughly  representative  American,  and 
certainly  Mrs.  Breckinridge  supports  him  with  dignity  and 
grace.  Admiral  Selfridge  is  a  naval  officer  of  splendid 
record,  one  calculated  to  do  honour  to  our  country  wherever 
he  may  represent  it,  and  accompanied  by  his  personal  staff  of 
six  charming  fellows,  all  creditable  representatives  of  their 
service,  redeemed  America  from  an  obscure  position  among 
the  visiting  embassies.  It  is,  however,  a  matter  of  regret  that 
our  army,  filled  as  it  is  with  gallant  men,  many  with 

149 


150  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

brilliant  records,  and  well  deserving  the  honour,  should 
have  been  so  insignificantly  represented. 

Small  in  comparison  as  our  representation  was,  the 
beggarly  appropriation  that  was  made  ($5,000)  was  even 
in  greater  contrast  to  that  of  other  foreign  powers.  There 
was  no  petty  principality  in  Europe  or  Asia  that  did  not 
treat  its  representatives  with  more  generosity.  Republican 
simplicity  is  all  very  well  in  its  way,  but  I  submit  that 
self-respect  is  quite  as  important  a  factor  in  a  nation's 
life.  If  we  are  going  to  send  representatives  to  such  func- 
tions at  all,  it  would  be  a  wise  policy  to  enable  them  at 
least  to  compete  in  appearance  with  other  first-class  powers. 
Of  course,  I  am  entering  upon  a  wide  field,  the  very  fringe 
of  which  I  shall  but  skirt.  In  the  East,  in  Russia,  and, 
indeed,  in  many  European  countries,  the  dignity  and 
power  of  a  nation  are  estimated  according  to  the  appear- 
ance made  by  its  representatives.  If  our  country  was  thus 
judged  by  the  delegates  of  the  different  nations  at  the 
coronation  of  the  Tsar,  they  must  certainly  have  placed 
us  at  the  foot  of  the  list.  I  wonder  how  long  it  will  be 
before  our  consuls,  ministers,  and  ambassadors  are  so  paid 
that  they  can  go  to  their  posts  without  a  constant  dread 
of  impending  financial  disaster  if  they  are  poor  men,  or 
without  the  knowledge,  if  they  are  rich,  that  their  ap- 
pointment simply  means  an  opportunity  to  make  them- 
selves a  good  deal  poorer  before  their  term  of  office  ex- 
pires. Surely  the  United  States  is  big  enough  and  gen- 
erous enough  to  deal  with  an  open  hand  with  the  citizens 
it  sends  abroad  to  care  for  its  interests  in  foreign  lands. 
We  must  also  take  into  consideration  our  position  among 
the  other  great  nations  of  the  world,  and  the  nature  of 
our  diplomatic  intercourse  with  them.  We  are  essentially 
a  nation  of  producers,  producing  more  than  is  necessary 
for  home  consumption;  we  are  eager  to  augment  our  com- 
mercial importance  in  the  markets  of  the  world;  and  in 
many  of  those  markets  we  must  first  of  all  enhance  our 
importance  by  lifting  up  the  dignity  of  those  who  repre- 
sent us.  It  is  a  very  poor  policy  to  make  a  meagre  display 
in  the  show  window  of  either  a  nation  or  a  shop. 


THE  COSSACKS  AND  LI  HUNG  CHANG.          151 

I  hope  I  shall  be  forgiven  for  this  digression,  but  I 
must  confess  that  while  in  Moscow.,  although  intensely 
American,  I  felt  more  than  once  put  to  the  blush  that  our 
country,  which  we  believe  to  be  the  greatest  on  earth, 
should  have  made  so  poor  a  display  when  compared  with 
even  insignificant  South  American  powers.  And  I  must 
confess  that  the  false  position  into  which  our  accredited 
representatives  abroad  are  frequently  forced  by  the  policy 
of  mistaken  economy  pursued  by  our  Government  is 
scarcely  commensurate  with  our  dignity  and  position.  It 
is  not  doing  quite  the  square  thing  by  our  representatives 
to  send  them  to  courts  where  every  other  power  is  lavish 
in  the  treatment  of  its  diplomatic  agents,  and  then  to 
ask  them  to  "  keep  up  their  end  "  on  a  beggarly  pittance. 
This  may  be  republican  simplicity,  but  it  is  not  good  sense. 
A  nation,  to  gain  the  consideration  of  other  foreign  powers, 
must  employ  diplomats  mentally  and  physically  equipped 
for  their  duties;  and,  having  employed  them,  it  is  its 
bounden  duty  to  place  them  upon  such  a  footing,  with 
every  available  facility  at  their  disposal,  that  they  can 
command  the  attention  and  respect  of  the  Government 
and  people  to  whom  they  are  accredited. 

In  many  of  the  great  capitals  foreign  governments 
own  and  maintain  at  their  own  expense  the  houses  in 
which  the  embassies  and  legations  are  domiciled.  These 
are  always  of  a  size  and  elegance  suitable  to  the  position 
of  their  representatives.  In  addition  to  this,  they  pay 
them  salaries  sufficiently  large  for  the  maintenance,  in 
every  way,  of  a  state  creditable  to  their  governments.  Our 
Government  owns  no  house  in  any  foreign  capital,  nor 
is  any  provision  or  allowance  made  for  the  renting  or 
maintaining  of  such.  Our  ambassadors  and  ministers  are 
supposed  to  provide  this  from  their  salaries,  which  are, 
when  compared  to  those  of  the  representatives  of  even 
third-rate  powers,  very  small  and  mean.  In  any  of  the 
large  capitals  of  Europe  the  rent  of  a  house  at  all  suitable 
for  the  occupancy  of  an  ambassador  or  minister  is  ex- 
tremely high.  I  know  the  case  of  one  American  ambas- 
sador whose  house  rent  alone  exceeded  his  salary  by  five 
11 


152  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

thousand  dollars.  There  are  also  courtesies  in  the  form 
of  social  entertainments  that  are  almost  obligatory  among 
representatives  at  a  foreign  court.  These  entertainments 
do  not  represent  the  personal  feeling  of  one  representative 
for  another,  so  much  as  the  feeling  between  the  two  coun- 
tries represented.  Is  it,  therefore,  right  or  just  that  we 
send  our  representative  abroad  and  expect  him  to  bear 
personally  the  expenses  of  discharging  the  obligations 
devolving  upon  him  in  order  to  maintain  the  dignity  and 
prestige  of  his  country?  If  this  mistaken  petty  economy 
be  persistently  followed  by  our  Government,  the  time  will 
soon  arrive  when  none  but  the  rich  can  afford  to  represent 
us  abroad,  and  we  shall  soon  build  up  a  plutocratical  gov- 
ernmental service  in  direct  opposition  to  the  fundamental 
principles  of  the  Eepublic.  What  matters  it  if  the  recom- 
pense of  our  representatives  abroad  be  doubled,  or  even 
trebled?  The  increased  expenditure  would  not  be  felt,  or 
hardly  noticed,  in  the  annual  expenses  of  the  Government. 
Then  the  ablest  and  the  best-fitted  men  could  be  sent  to 
represent  us  abroad,  were  they  rich  or  poor,  without  fear 
of  causing  pecuniary  embarrassment. 

On  my  way  to  the  barracks,  which  I  drove  out  to  see 
on  this  day  with  Colonel  Ismaillof,  son  of  the  very  dis- 
tinguished general  of  that  name,  whose  brilliant  record 
is  well  known  to  all  students  of  the  Eusso-Turkish  War, 
I  passed  the  Tsar  and  the  Tsaritsa  driving  in  an  open 
victoria,  entirely  unattended  by  any  escort,  and  preceded 
only  by  a  single  aide-de-camp  in  a  troika.  They  were  on 
their  way  to  the  Kremlin  to  the  reception  of  the  ambassa- 
dors, and  it  was  refreshing  to  observe  the  complete  con- 
fidence and  ease  and  absence  of  display  with  which  they 
drove  through  the  streets.  If  to  show  confidence  is  the 
surest  way  to  beget  confidence,  certainly  the  young  Em- 
peror and  his  wife  were  laying  the  foundation  for  universal 
good  feeling  among  their  people.  They  bowed  on  every 
hand  as  they  passed  along,  and  everywhere  were  greeted 
with  cheers  and  smiles.  The  Empress  was  dressed  in  a 
beautiful  but  simple  costume  of  pink  and  gray,  and  the 
Emperor  looked  very  soldierly  in  his  splendid  uniform. 


THE  COSSACKS  AND  LI  HUNG  CHANG.          153 

I  only  mention  this  to  dissipate  the  impression,  which  I 
think  is  general,  that  the  Tsar  never  stirs  abroad  without 
/  a  military  escort.  This  incident  was  more  striking,  as  it 
occurred  at  a  time  when  the  city  was  full  of  strangers,  and 
when  one  would  suppose  that  more  than  ordinary  precau- 
tions would  be  adopted. 

On  our  way  to  the  barracks  we  visited  the  Palanka 
Square,  which  is  one  of  the  interesting  shows  of  Moscow. 
Here  the  "  thieves'  market "  is  situated.  It  is  the  Rus- 
sian  equivalent  of  Petticoat  Lane  in  London.  I  do  not 
know  of  its  like  in  America.  It  is  averred  that  only 
stolen  goods  are  on  sale  here.  Whether  this  is  true  I  can 
not  say,  but  I  incline  to  the  belief  that  a  very  considerable 
proportion  of  the  second-hand  stock-in-trade  of  these  side- 
walk merchants  has  been  "lifted."  Petty  thieves,  sneak 
thieves,  domestic  servants  who  pilfer  trifles  from  care- 
less masters,  and  the  more  ambitious  burglar,  are  all  re- 
puted to  find  a  ready  sale  for  their  spoil  at  the  "  thieves' 
market."  The  character  of  many  of  the  faces  would  quite 
justify  the  belief  that  the  thieves  themselves  were  dispos- 
ing of  their  gains,  for  I  never  saw  more  beetle-browed, 
ill-looking  specimens  anywhere  in  my  life. 

My  visit  to  the  barracks  was  interesting  to  me,  as  help- 
ing me  to  form  an  independent  opinion  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  Russian  soldier  is  housed.  I  had  read  a  great 
deal  about  the  inhuman  treatment  of  the  private  soldiers 
of  the  Russian  Army.  This  I  did  not  find  to  be  corrobo- 
rated by  my  personal  inspection.  And  I  saw  the  barracks 
at  a  disadvantage,  for  accommodations  of  a  temporary 
character  had  been  erected  in  every  available  spot  for 
the  enormous  number  of  extra  troops  concentrated  in  Mos- 
cow for  the  coronation.  Indeed,  I  found  upon  personal 
observation  that  many  of  the  gruesome  stories  I  had  read 
of  Russian  life  were  either  manufactured  out  of  "whole 
cloth,"  or  exaggerations  of  such  magnitude  that  one  would 
scarcely  recognise  the  original.  The  barracks  were  one- 
story  buildings  covered  with  stucco.  Each  room  ac- 
commodated not  less  than  twelve  nor  more  than  twenty 
men.  As  we  passed  through  the  rooms,  the  soldiers  in 


154:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

them  stood  at  attention  and  saluted.  I  could  only  see 
that  they  were  as  well  cared  for  as  the  men  of  our  own 
army,  and  I  have  seen  many  English  barracks  that  were 
not  a  whit  more  comfortable.  In  front  of  the  buildings 
is  a  large  sandy  plain,  on  which  the  temporary  sheds 
spoken  of  above  had  been  erected.  The  scene  was  one  of 
bustle  and  activity;  soldiers  in  various  uniforms  were 
everywhere  occupied  in  active  preparation  for  some  im- 
pending military  function.  I  noticed  a  relief  guard  going 
out,  and  as  they  marched  the  soldiers  munched  big  chunks 
of  the  black  bread  of  which  the  lower  classes  in  Eussia 
are  so  fond,  and  which,  despite  its  dark  colour,  is  both 
wholesome  and  nutritious. 

.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  come  in  close  contact  with 
the  famous  Cossacks.  From  what  I  then  saw  of  them, 
I  can  fully  realize  how  they  have  won  and  so  long  main- 
tained their  reputation  in  every  kind  of  irregular  warfare. 
They  are  fierce-looking  customers,  with  black  hair  and 
piercing  black  eyes.  Fully  half  of  them  bore  some  scar, 
or  were  minus  an  eye  or  ear.  They  were,  in  truth,  more 
disfigured  than  a  corps  of  German  duelling  students.  They 
are,  so  Colonel  Ismaillof  told  me,  under  complete  dis- 
cipline, regard  the  Tsar  with  reverence  and  affection,  and 
would  serve  him,  in  the  words  of  the  late  Sir  John  Mac- 
donald,  with  their  "  last  man  and  their  last  dollar."  How 
strange  it  all  appears,  as  one  glances  back  through  his 
recollections  of  history,  to  see  these  children  of  the  desert, 
who  were  once  the  terror  of  the  Muscovite,  now  amenable 
to  discipline,  and  holding  a  place  among  the  most  valued 
forces  of  the  Empire.  In  nothing,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the 
might  and  material  progress  of  the  Eussian  Empire  more 
clearly  displayed  than  in  its  gradual  but  complete  sub- 
jugation of  the  various  barbaric  tribes  which  once  held 
its  borders  in  constant  terror,  and  enjoyed  an  independ- 
ence as  complete  as  their  present  subjugation.  Among 
no  people  has  there  ever  been  a  more  complete  system  of 
social  equality  than  among  those  inhabiting  the  lower 
stretches  of  Eussian  territory  bordering  the  Black  Sea, 
reaching  across  the  Caucasus  Mountains,  and  including 


THE  COSSACKS  AND  LI  HUNG  CHANG.          155 

the  country  surrounding  the  Caspian  Sea.  Eepublicanism 
as  practised  in  the  United  States,  in  France,  or  even  in 
Switzerland — where  it  is  said  to  be  most  nearly  ideal — is 
stark  autocracy  compared  with  the  social  equality  and 
individualism  which  the  Cossacks  once  enjoyed.  In  those 
early  commonwealths  every  man  stood  on  an  absolute 
equality  with  his  fellows.  Each  individual  member  of  the 
community  could  call  it  together  to  redress  any  wrong 
of  which  he  supposed  himself  the  victim.  It  is  true,  their 
councils  were  often  disturbed  by  a  resort  to  arms,  but 
even  then  every  man  was  on  an  equitable  footing,  and 
a  rude  system  of  justice  was  maintained  that  was  alto- 
gether satisfactory  to  the  people  and  quite  in  keeping  with 
their  natural  proclivities.  After  the  Muscovite  Tsar  had 
gained  an  ascendency  in  northern  or  greater  Eussia,  these 
wild  sons  of  the  desert  long  maintained  their  independ- 
ence; and  when  at  last  they  succumbed  to  the  sway  of 
the  Great  White  Father,  their  submission  was  greatly  salted 
with  reservations — unexpressed,  but  none  the  less  emphatic 
— in  favour  of  a  continuance  of  that  nomadic  life  and 
border  warfare  which  had  to  them  all  the  charm  that  the 
tourney  of  the  Middle  Ages  held  for  the  feudal  lords.  It 
is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  hopeful  signs  of  the  slow 
but  sure  advance  of  civilization  over  all  the  world,  that 
the  Cossacks  of  the  Dnieper,  the  Don,  and  the  Volga  are 
now  simply  the"  Cossacks  of  the  Tsar.  Among  all  his 
troops  the  Emperor  has  none  more  fearless  and  none  more 
obedient. 

They  are  most  valuable,  however,  in  those  forms  of 
warfare  which  approach  nearest  the  guerilla,  and  espe- 
cially enjoy  being  engaged  in  suppressing  any  uprising 
among  the  regular  Russian  population,  between  whom 
and  themselves  there  is  little  love  lost.  I  could  not  help 
thinking,  as  I  looked  at  them,  of  the  merciless  manner 
in  which  the  forerunners  of  these  same  Cossacks  had 
swooped  down  again  and  again  upon  the  remnants  of  the 
French  Army  as  it  struggled  through  frost  and  snow 
toward  the  borders  of  what  proved  its  graveyard.  They 
seemed  to  the  French  soldiers,  according  to  the  account 


156  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

of  one  of  their  officers,  like  wolves  of  the  forest,  so  swift, 
so  cruel,  so  absolutely  without  mercy  was  their  mode  of 
attack.  They  are  magnificent  horsemen,  so  far  as  riding  is 
concerned,  and  it  was  this,  as  well  as  his  brilliant  uni- 
form and  bravery,  which  endeared  to  them  the  French 
General  Murat,  whom  they  styled  the  "  Cossack  of  the 
French."  They  have  no  modern  ideas  of  managing  their 
horses.  They  rule  them  by  brute  force  rather  than  by 
kindness.  The  animals  they  ride  are  very  like  the  Mexi- 
can broncho — swift  and  sure  of  foot,  and  perhaps  more 
amenable  to  force  than  to  a  gentler  sway.  I  had  heard  much 
of  their  daring  riding,  and  must  confess  that  they  are  as 
clever  horsemen  as  our  own  Indians,  but  their  far-famed 
riding  in  a  standing  position  lost  some  of  its  wonder  to 
me  when  I  saw  that  to  accomplish  this  they  cross  their 
stirrups  over  the  saddle,  and,  thrusting  their  feet  into 
these,  secure  a  pretty  firm  foothold.  They  are  absolutely 
fearless,  and  impressed  me  as  being  a  troublesome  lot  to 
tackle  in  anything  like  frontier  warfare.  An  escort  espe- 
cially designed  for  service  near  the  person  of  his  Majesty 
is  chosen  from  the  Cossacks,  and  in  their  long  flowing 
scarlet  coats,  with  white  facings,  together  with  their  fierce 
aspect,  they  make  a  most  picturesque  addition  to  the 
regiments  of  the  Guard.  One  peculiar  feature  of  their 
uniform  is  a  long  sweeping  black  cloak,  for  all  the  world 
the  counterpart  of  the  circulars  that  our  ladies  used  to 
affect  a  few  years  ago.  These,  when  they  are  walking, 
reach  to  the  ground,  covering  them  entirely,  and  when 
on  horseback  extend  over  the  quarters  of  their  horses. 

From  the  barracks  I  accompanied  Colonel  Ismaillof 
to  a  luncheon  at  the  Ermitage.  We  sat  down  to  a  charac- 
teristic Eussian  meal,  which,  after  all  the  French  menus 
I  had  lately  faced,  was  quite  a  relief.  After  an  elaborate 
Zakuska,  we  discussed  a  delicious  iced  green  soup,  a  pecul- 
iarly tasty  fish  patty,  and  cold  roast  pig,  served  with  cu- 
cumbers and  onions.  This,  washed  down  with  a  very  good 
brand  of  champagne,  and  followed  by  a  well-concocted 
article  in  the  way  of  coffee,  served  to  cast  a  rosy  hue  over 
the  very  arduous  work  of  sight-seeing. 


THE  COSSACKS  AND  LI  HUNG  CHANG.          157 

After  lunch,  having  bidden  my  most  agreeable  host 
au  revoir,  I  called  at  the  residence  of  the  French  Ambas- 
sador, and  ended  a  very  enjoyable  and  most  interesting 
afternoon  by  a  visit  to  Li  Hung  Chang.  The  astute  Chi- 
nese statesman  was  in  many  respects  quite  the  figure 
among  the  list  of  distinguished  strangers,  and,  singularly 
enough,  seemed  to  overshadow  the  Japanese  representa- 
tives. I  found  him  a  most  delightful  and  entertaining 
man.  He  was  more  polite  than  the  occasion  or  our  relative 
ages  demanded.  Kising  when  I  was  presented,  he  greeted 
me  with  cordiality,  and  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  observe 
his  great  height.  He  talked  freely  and  well  through  an 
interpreter.  It  was  evident  that,  although  this  was  his 
first  trip  round  the  world,  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  cur- 
rent events  of  Europe,  or  to  the  ideas  which  were  mak- 
ing themselves  felt  among  civilized  nations.  He  spoke 
of  General  Grant  in  terms  of  enthusiasm,  and  said 
that  they  had  been  "good  friends."  He  spoke  of 
China  as  having  been  too  conservative,  and  hoped  to 
learn  much  on  his  trip  which  would  prove  of  value  to  his 
people.  He  was  domiciled  at  the  residence  of  a  promi- 
nent Muscovite  tea-merchant,  which  had  been  placed  at 
his  disposal  during  the  coronation  ceremonies.  I  noticed 
that  he  wore  his  red  button  and  peacock  feather,  and  that 
he  toyed  with  a  string  of  aromatic  beads  as  he  conversed, 
constantly  inhaling  their  fragrance.  Li  Hung  Chang  is 
no  stranger  in  either  England  or  America  by  this  time, 
and  has  discovered  to  both  countries  a  vein  of  humour 
which  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  in  Eussia.  "  How  old 
are  you  ?  "  he  asked  the  Tsar,  when  he  was  presented  to 
him.  "  Twenty-seven,"  replied  his  Majesty.  "  You  look 
forty,  your  face  contains  so  much  wisdom?"  This,  of 
course,  from  the  celestial  standpoint  was  a  very  emphatic 
compliment.  "And  how  old  are  you?"  queried  the  Em- 
peror, intending  to  comment  pleasantly  upon  the  aged 
statesman's  vigorous  appearance  and  activity.  Li  Hung 
Chang  smiled,  and  his  bright  eyes  twinkled  slyly  as  he 
replied,  "  Oh,  I'm  only  a  boy,  too!  "  To  the  Duke  of  Saxe- 
Coburg-Gotha,  who  has  very  noticeably  increased  in  weight 


158  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

during  the  last  few  years,  and  had  been  describing  his 
duchy  to  Li  Hung  Chang,  the  latter  quietly  said,  "  But 
it's  such  a  little  country;  I  should  think  you  would  find 
it  difficult  to  live  in  it."  It  is  needless  to  say  that  Li  Hung 
Chang's  touches  of  humour  were  received  by  both  Tsar 
and  Duke  with  merriment.  The  Chinese  statesman  im- 
pressed me  as  far  too  astute  to  give  utterance  to  any  im- 
portant views  concerning  the  future  policy  of  his  Govern- 
ment, so  anxiously  awaited  by  the  world  of  diplomacy. 
And  I  imagined  even  then  that  he  would  escape  from  the 
United  States,  as  he  has  from  Eussia,  Germany,  France, 
and  England,  without  committing  himself  as  to  China's 
projects,  either  commercial  or  diplomatic.  From  what  I 
saw  of  him,  I  could  but  feel  that  if  his  country  had  pos- 
sessed a  few  more  such  statesmen,  the  issue  of  the  war  be- 
tween China  and  Japan  would  have  worn  a  very  different 
complexion.  But  one  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer, 
and  one  statesman  can  not  make  an  empire. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   TSAKITSA. 
So  good,  so  kind,  so  clever. 

THE  present  Tsaritsa  of  Russia  is  the  daughter  of  Louis 
IV,  Grand  Duke  of  Hesse-Darmstadt,  and  that  Princess 
Alice  of  England  who  is  usually  styled  "the  Queen's 
favourite  daughter.'3  The  name  which  was  conferred  upon 
her  in  baptism,  and  which  she  laid  aside  upon  entering 
the  Russian  Church  before  her  marriage,  was  Victoria 
Alix  Helena  Louise  Beatrice.  She  was  born  on  June  6, 
1872,  and  from  the  dawn  of  her  life  disclosed  the  same 
engaging  qualities  of  heart  and  mind  which  led  the  Prince 
of  Wales  to  speak  of  her  mother,  at  the  time  of  her  death, 
as  one  "  so  good,  so  kind,  so  clever." 

In  giving  a  brief  description  of  the  august  and  gracious 
lady  who  now  shares  the  throne  of  Russia  with  Nicholas 
II,  it  will  not  be  inappropriate  to  revert  to  her  parentage 
and  family  connections.  Indeed,  it  is  upon  these  family 
connections  and  their  potent  though  non-political  influ- 
ence that  some  of  the  wisest  and  most  far-seeing  minds 
in  Europe  predicate  an  era  of  peace  and  good-will  among 
the  continental  nations.  At  the  time  of  her  marriage, 
the  London  Times,  which  always  speaks  with  greatest  cau- 
tion, said:  "It  is  quite  possible  that  the  new  Empress 
may  be  able  to  exercise  a  quiet  and  wholly  unobjection- 
able influence  in  favour  of  peace  by  helping  to  remove 
the  somewhat  jealous  and  suspicious  feeling  with  which 
the  Russian  people  regarded  both  England  and  Germany 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  last  reign."  "  Quiet  and 

159 


160  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

wholly  unobjectionable "  are  precisely  the  words  which 
one  would  apply  to  that  kind  of  influence  which  proceeds 
from  a  gracious  and  potential  personality,  and  is  rooted 
in  family  love  and  affection.  Such  is  likely  to  be  the 
kind  of  influence  exerted  in  Eussia  and  throughout  Europe 
by  the  Empress  Alexandra  Feodorovna.  The  Empress's 
family  connections  ally  her  closely  with  the  royal  throne 
of  England  and  the  imperial  throne  of  Germany.  If  it  is 
true  of  royal  as  of  ordinary  mortals,  that  "  blood  is  thicker 
than  water,"  it  is  also  true  that  the  quality  of  blood  in  royal 
veins  is  determined  altogether  by  considerations  of  he- 
redity. Judged  by  the  standards  of  heredity,  no  happier 
or  more  benign  personality  than  that  of  the  Empress  of 
Eussia  is  to  be  found  among  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe. 
Her  mother,  Princess  Alice  of  England,  was  universally 
conceded,  by  her  own  family,  by  the  people  of  England, 
and  by  the  inhabitants  of  Hesse-Darmstadt,  to  be  a  woman 
of  great  sweetness  and  beauty  of  nature,  as  well  as  the 
possessor  of  an  incisive  intellect  and  a  thoroughly  cultured 
mind.  At  the  time  of  her  death,  the  Earl  of  Beaconsfield, 
Lord  Granville,  and  many  others  of  scarcely  less  au- 
thority, united  to  praise  the  strength  and  beauty  of  her 
life  in  no  measured  terms;  and  her  biographer,  writing 
at  or  near  the  same  time,  and  speaking  of  her  swift 
adaptability  to  her  new  sphere  at  the  time  of  her  mar- 
riage, says:  "  Brilliant,  but  solid  in  her  accomplishments, 
she  speedily  entered,  in  her  new  home  among  the  Ger- 
man people,  on  an  increasing  interest  in  their  art  and 
literature;  and  being  an  accomplished  sculptor  and  painter, 
with  a  hearty  and  kind  disposition,  she  soon  drew  around 
her  friends  who  forgot  the  Princess  to  love  and  admire 
the  woman."  The  Princess  Alice  was  always  a  prime 
favourite  among  the  people  of  England,  and  her  death 
was  sincerely  mourned.  She  is  declared  to  have  inherited 
the  amiable  disposition  and  bright,  comprehensive  intel- 
lect of  Albert  the  Good,  her  father.  She  was  his  favourite 
child  and  chief  companion,  and  it  was  she  who  soothed 
his  last  moments  with  the  tenderness  of  a  daughter  and  a 
fortitude  far  beyond  her  years. 


THE  TSARITSA.  161 

Through  her  mother  and  her  grandfather,  then,  we 
see  the  Empress  of  Eussia  to  be  descended  from  a  line  in 
which  strength  of  intellect  was  enriched  and  modified  by 
generosity,  gentleness,  and  affection.  The  benign  life  of 
the  Prince  Consort,  the  gracious,  devoted  life  of  Princess 
Alice,  if  reproduced  in  the  Empress  of  Russia,  bespeak  a 
character  in  which  "  mercy  and  truth  are  met  together, 
righteousness  and  peace  have  kissed  each  other." 

The  Empress  is  also,  it  should  be  remembered,  the 
granddaughter  of  Queen  Victoria,  whose  reign  is  at  once 
the  longest  and  the  most  brilliant  in  the  history  of  the  Eng- 
lish throne;  a  woman  who  has  generated  wholesome  in- 
fluences, not  alone  in  her  own  kingdom,  but  among  the 
different  royalties  of  Europe,  most  of  whom  are  more  or 
less  closely  connected  with  her.  Supposing,  then,  that  the 
present  Empress  inherits  the  capacity  for  affairs  of  her 
grandfather,  the  warm  and  womanly  temperament  of 
Queen  Victoria,  and  adds  to  these  the  sweet  gracious- 
ness  of  her  own  mother,  and  it  will  be  instantly  seen 
that  she  has  taken  to  the  throne  of  Russia  a  rarer  gift 
than  that  throne  can  possibly  bestow  upon  her — the  gift 
of  a  pure,  exalted,  gentle,  and  loving  type  of  woman- 
hood. 

On  her  father's  side,  too — Louis  IV,  Grand  Duke  of 
Hesse-Darmstadt — she  is  well  descended;  for  he  was  not 
only  a  good  husband  and  father,  but  a  brave  soldier,  who 
risked  his  life  for  his  fatherland  on  many  a  hard-fought 
field. 

Such,  then,  are  the  two  streams  immediately  converg- 
ing in  the  present  Empress.  "Aliky,"  as  she  was  nick- 
named by  her  mother,  may  well  be  proud  of  an  ancestry 
which  closely  allies  her  to  not  only  the  best  blood  in 
Europe,  but  also  to  individuals  of  exceptional  brilliance 
and  beauty  of  nature.  Add  to  this  distinguished  heredity 
the  delightfully  simple  and  wholesome  environment  of 
the  girl's  early  years,  and  we  have  present  the  two  con- 
ditions upon  which  philosophers  are  accustomed  to  predict 
ideal  types  of  character. 

When  the  Princess  Alice  left  "Windsor  for  Hesse-Darm- 


162  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

stadt  it  was  like  a  descent  from  palace  to  cottage.  The 
house  she  went  to  live  in,  and  in  which  her  children  were 
born,  was  unpretentious,  and  her  husband's  treasury  dic- 
tated thrift.  Not  in  an  atmosphere  of  poverty,  but  in  one 
of  prudence  and  frugality  then,  was  the  young  Princess 
reared.  Moreover,  she  was  reared  among  a  people  as  re- 
ligious, simple,  industrious,  conscientious,  and  thrifty  as  any 
in  Europe.  The  Grand  Duchy  of  Hesse-Darmstadt  is  an 
integral  part  of  the  German  Empire,  comprises  an  area  of 
2,965  square  miles,  and  has  a  population  of  about  1,000,000 
souls,  chiefly  Protestants.  As  lately  as  1866  Hesse-Darm- 
stadt sided  with  Austria  against  Prussia,  and  incurred  a 
heavy  indemnity  in  so  doing;  but  the  people  are  of  an  in- 
dependent spirit,  and  value  their  individual  national  exist- 
ence, notwithstanding  their  inclusion  in  the  German  Em- 
pire. It  was,  then,  in  an  environment  of  simplicity,  fru- 
gality, honest,  earnest  endeavour,  unostentatious  and  home- 
like individuality,  that  "Aliky's"  childhood  and  young 
girlhood  were  spent.  Fit  preparation  for  the  future  occu- 
pant of  one  of  the  mightiest  thrones  in  Europe!  There 
is  a  beautiful  line  in  one  of  the  New  Testament  epistles: 
"  It  behoved  him  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  that 
he  might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest  in  things 
pertaining  to  God,  to  make  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of 
the  people."  Surely,  if  closeness  to  the  common  people, 
a  constant  sympathy  with  their  wants,  their  cares,  their 
weaknesses,  and  an  intimate  and  lifelong  knowledge  of 
the  conditions  which  create  those  cares  and  weaknesses, 
are  likely  to  fit  one  to  appreciate  and  deal  leniently  with 
his  subjects,  then  the  Empress  of  Russia  possesses  all  the 
qualities  of  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priestess,  for 
she  has  in  most  essentials  been  "made  like  unto  her 
brethren." 

It  has  been  my  object,  in  thus  glancing  at  the  parentage 
and  early  life  of  the  Empress  of  Russia,  to  show  that  she 
possesses  all  the  qualifications  to  be  derived  from  those 
sources  when  they  exist  in  the  most  wholesome  and  en- 
nobling circumstances.  As  an  individual,  she  went  laden 
to  the  throne  of  Russia  with  the  precious  heritage  of  a 


THE  TSAKITSA.  163 

noble  ancestry,  a  clean  home  life,  and  a  charming,  unaf- 
fected personality. 

On  the  other  hand,  considered  politically,  she  has 
welded  another  link,  and  a  very  strong  one,  in  the  chain 
of  family  relationship  which  already  holds  together  as 
with  "hooks  of  steel"  the  thrones  of  Eussia,  Germany, 
and  England.  Already  an  English  prince  was  married 
to  a  sister  of  the  late  Tsar,  while  he  in  turn  was  wedded 
to  the  sister  of  England's  much-loved  Princess  of  Wales. 
The  present  Tsar  is  thus  the  nephew  of  the  Princess  of 
Wales,  and  the  cousin  of  the  Duke  of  York,  whom  he  so 
closely  resembles.  And  by  his  marriage  with  the  Queen's 
own  granddaughter,  he  establishes  a  closer  relationship 
than  ever  between  the  two  thrones.  The  present  German 
Emperor  is  first  cousin  to  the  Empress  of  Russia,  and  so 
it  is  likely  that,  notwithstanding  the  entente  cordiale  estab- 
lished between  the  French  and  Russians,  there  will  yet 
be  a  "still,  small,"  but  mightily  potential  voice  near  the 
Tsar  to  maintain  the  prestige  of  Germany. 

Of  course,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  arrive  at  state  con- 
clusions from  the  outside,  and  I  am  well  aware  how  com- 
mon is  the  taunt  that  "the  Queen  has  no  power,"  or 
"the  Emperor  is  the  mere  puppet  of  ministers."  It  may 
be,  and  probably  is,  true  that  statesmen  and  legislators 
rule  empires  in  fact,  leaving  only  tinsel  and  bauble  to 
their  nominal  rulers;  but  I  can  but  believe  that  the  close 
binding  together  of  these  mighty  thrones  by  the  mar- 
riage and  intermarriage  of  the  royal  and  imperial  families 
must  tend  to  promote  peace  and  good  fellowship  among 
the  nations.  The  German  Emperor  is  not  likely  to  attack 
a  throne  which  is  shared  by  his  charming  cousin;  nor  is 
the  young  Tsar  likely  to  antagonize  a  kingdom  ruled  by 
the  wise  and  venerable  grandmother  of  his  wife. 

Now,  all  these  considerations  are,  as  I  am  aware,  large- 
ly apart  from  the  immediate  personality  of  the  Tsaritsa; 
but  when  we  come  to  consider  the  effect  of  her  character 
and  bearing  upon  those  with  whom  she  comes  in  intimate 
contact,  it  seems  safe  to  predict  that,  as  the  mother  im- 
mediately won  the  hearts  of  all  the  Hessians,  so  will  the 


164  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

daughter  achieve  a  similar  conquest  of  the  Eussians.  It 
would  be  difficult,  indeed,  to  portray  a  woman  of  more 
gracious,  gentle,  and  withal  dignified  bearing  than  the 
Empress  Alexandrovna.  A  smile  in  which  tenderness 
and  pathos  are  mingled  with  a  serene  self-possession  gives 
the  beholder  the  impression  of  one  strong  and  true,  who 
derives  strength  from  within,  and  judges  the  objective 
world  by  a  standard  self-created,  rather  than  supinely 
submitting  to  be  carried  hither  and  yon  by  every  suc- 
cessive breeze. 

The  Tsaritsa  is  a  woman  of  great  and  self-determining 
force.  This  force  is  not  the  less  because  it  is  masked  by 
gentleness.  M.  Felix  Faure,  speaking  at  Chalons  after  the 
Tsar's  review  of  the  French  soldiers,  said,  "  Like  a  smile 
of  good  omen,  the  charm  of  the  presence  of  her  Majesty 
the  Empress  will  remain  interwoven  with  this  visit."  And 
such  has  been  the  impression  created  by  the  young  Tsaritsa 
everywhere. 

How  potential  and  far-reaching  such  an  influence  as 
hers  may  be  is  easily  judged  by  an  almost  parallel  case.  It 
is  often  said  in  England  to-day  that  the  Prince  of  Wales 
is  the  most  popular  man  in  the  country — a  saying  which 
is,  I  judge,  pretty  true.  However  that  may  be,  the  one 
woman  in  England  who  rules  all  hearts  by  the  sceptre 
of  true  womanhood  and  unfailing  beauty  of  life  is  the 
Princess  of  Wales.  This  daughter  of  the  sea  came  from 
her  Danish  home  many  years  ago  to  be  the  bride  of  Eng- 
land's future  king.  She  came  a  stranger,  unknown;  but 
from  the  first  her  conquest  of  the  British  people  has  been 
indisputable,  and  to-day  it  is  scarcely  extravagant  to  say 
that  the  nation  adores  her.  A  similar  case  to  hers  is  that 
of  the  young  Empress  of  Eussia.  She  is  already  creating 
an  atmosphere  of  domesticity  and  gentleness  about  the 
throne  whose  traditions  are  stained  with  violence  and  with 
blood.  Her  mother  once  wrote  to  Queen  Victoria,  "  I  am 
proud  of  my  girls,  for  they  are  warm-hearted  and  gifted 
too!"  And  in  another  letter  she  says:  "All  my  chil- 
dren are  great  lovers  of  Nature,  and  I  develop  this  as 
much  as  I  can.  It  makes  life  so  rich,  and  they  can  never 


THE  TSAKITSA.  165 

feel  dull  anywhere,  if  they  know  how  to  seek  and  find 
around  them  the  thousand  beauties  and  wonders  of  Nature. 
They  are  very  happy  and  contented,  and  always  see  that 
the  less  people  have  the  less  they  want,  and  that  the 
greater  is  the  enjoyment  of  that  which  they  have.  I  bring 
my  children  up  as  simply  and  with  as  few  wants  as  I  can, 
and,  above  all,  teach  them  to  help  themselves  and  others, 
so  as  to  become  independent." 

Such,  then,  is  the  woman  called  upon  to  share  the 
glories  of  the  Russian  throne.  A  woman  strong  and  simple 
in  nature,  trained  to  rely  upon  herself,  and  to  be  quick 
to  help  others.  Born  of  a  brilliant  mother,  educated  in 
all  the  best  learning  of  the  day,  young  and  beautiful,  who 
can  say  how  vast  may  be  the  power  she  may  wield  in  an 
Empire  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the  beautiful  and  ready 
to  receive  the  truth? 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  and  the  first  half 
of  the  seventeenth  centuries  the  tsaritsas  of  Russia  were 
practically  purdah  women.  So  great  was  their  state  that 
they  lived  apart.  For  them  to  seek  amusement  or  enjoy 
it  was  alike  undignified.  They  visited  convents;  and  in 
the  churches,  even  the  place  where  they  sat  was  screened 
and  secluded  like  that  of  an  Indian  Maharanee  at  the 
theatre.  But  all  that  is  changed.  Between  then  and  now 
looms  the  figure  of  Catharine,  who  while  in  the  world 
was  "  of  the  world."  A  woman  of  strength  and  opulent 
opportunity  she  was,  whose  moral  influence  upon  her 
time  and  people  was  as  much  to  be  deplored  as  her  self- 
reliance  and  force  were  to  be  praised.  This  figure  looms 
between  the  dark  past  and  the  bright,  hopeful  present. 
To-day  there  stands  upon  the  shore  of  that  limitless  ocean 
called  the  Future  a  soft  and  radiant  figure  beside  the 
autocrat  of  all  the  Russias.  It  is  the  Empress.  The 
light  of  mercy  is  in  her  eyes.  Benignity  illuminates  her 
face.  Her  heart  is  linked  to  England  and  to  Germany — 
yes,  to  all  mankind,  for  she  comes  of  humanitarian  stock. 
They  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  a  voyage,  these  two. 
A  little  child  with  golden  curls  and  laughing  eyes  is  be- 
tween them.  It  is  their  first  pledge  of  love — the  Grand 


166  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Duchess  Olga.  Who  shall  say  how  mighty  may  be  the 
influence  of  that  soft-voiced,  gentle,  smiling  woman,  and 
that  happy,  crowing  babe  upon  the  young  monarch  who, 
in  the  midst  of  universal  acclaim,  is  about  to  dare  all  the 
tempests  of  an  untried  sea? 

Of  this  we  may  at  least  be  sure,  that  for  that  simple 
family  group  all  hearts  and  lips  will  move  in  unison  of 
happiest  aspiration;  and  if,  when  the  reign  of  Nicholas  II 
is  written,  the  name  of  Alexandra  Feodorovna  occupies  a 
noble  and  exalted  place,  it  will  but  confirm  the  theory  of 
the  philosopher,  while  it  fulfils  the  philanthropist's  dream, 
in  proving  that  from  a  noble  stock  a  noble  posterity  will 
surely  spring. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BEEAD   AND   SALT   AND   DANCING. 

THE  ancient  practice  of  presenting  bread  and  salt  to 
the  Tsar  was  observed  with  due  form  in  the  Palace  of 
the  Kremlin  on  the  28th  of  May.  From  one  of  the  sim- 
plest and  most  primitive  of  customs,  a  custom  born  in  the 
desert,  this  peculiar  and  interesting  rite  has  developed 
into  an  elaborate  and  ceremonious  function.  The  ex- 
change of  bread  and  salt  between  sovereign  and  subject, 
as  a  sign  of  fealty  and  submission,  was  a  very  early  and 
almost  universal  custom  of  Oriental  tribes.  From  a  mouth- 
ful of  bread  and  a  pinch  of  salt  thus  eaten  in  common 
under  the  burning  sun  of  the  desert  this  usage  has  grown, 
until  now  the  presenting  of  bread  and  salt  to  the  Tsar  in 
the  Palace  of  the  Kremlin  is  an  event  of  only  less  signifi- 
cance than  the  solemn  entry  and  the  coronation.  At  half- 
past  eleven  the  Tsar  and  the  Tsaritsa,  attended  in  state, 
entered  St.  Andrew's  Hall  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
the  different  delegations  from  all  parts  of  their  mighty 
Empire,  which  had  been  commissioned  to  present  this 
traditional  tribute,  accompanied  by  felicitations.  Among 
these  were  delegations  from  the  Holy  Synod,  the  Christian 
clergy,  the  Ministers  of  State,  the  Council  of  the  Empire, 
the  Senate,  the  nobility,  the  Secretaries  of  State,  the  Duchy 
of  Finland,  the  bourse,  the  commerce  committees,  and 
various  municipal  and  provincial  authorities.  In  some 
cases  valuable  presents  were  brought  to  the  Emperor  by 
the  visiting  bodies,  in  addition  to  the  bread  plates  and  salt 
cellars.  From  one  province  in  Siberia  was  sent  a  huge 
goblet  which  had  been  cut  out  of  a  single  enormous  ame- 

12  167 


168  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

thyst.  It  had  a  beautifully  executed  Bacchanalian  scene 
chased  upon  its  entire  surface.  I  saw  these  plates  and  salt 
cellars  that  evening  at  the  Grand  Bal  de  Cour.  They 
were  on  display  in  the  Throne  Eoom.  Some  of  them  were 
beautiful  in  design  and  execution,  and  all  were  massive 
and  of  great  richness.  The  plates  were  all  of  pure  gold, 
and  upon  many  the  Emperor's  initial  was  embossed.  On 
some  it  was  written  with  gems,  while  the  centre  of  others 
presented  beautifully  etched  scenes  in  the  province  whose 
gift  it  was.  There  were  in  all,  I  should  think,  at  least  one 
thousand  of  these  plates,  and  beside  each  was  its  accom- 
panying salt  cellar.  In  some  cases  it  formed  an  ingeniously 
contrived  part  of  the  plate.  I  recall  seeing  in  the  Winter 
Palace  at  St.  Petersburg  an  enormous  room  whose  walls 
were  entirely  decorated  with  plates  of  this  description, 
which  had  been  presented  to  former  Tsars.  Used  as 
plaques,  and  arranged  in  different  designs,  they  produced 
a  very  rich  and  massive  effect.  On  some  of  the  plates 
which  were  in  the  Throne  Eoom  on  the  night  of  the 
Courtag  there  were  yet  remaining  crumbs  of  bread,  and 
several  of  the  salt  cellars  had  salt  in  them,  showing  that 
the  actual  partaking  of  bread  and  salt  is  kept  in  propria 
forma.  It  is  considered  a  great  honour  to  be  selected  to 
carry  these  gifts  to  the  Tsar;  and  the  different  provinces, 
cities,  institutions,  trades,  and  professions  vie  with  each 
other  to  produce  the  most  beautiful  and  costly  pieces  of 
plate. 

The  Courtag,  or  Bal  de  Cour,  was,  of  course,  a  most 
elaborate  and  magnificent  function.  It  was  held  in  the 
three  principal  halls  of  state  of  the  Kremlin  Palace — those 
of  St.  George,  St.  Andrew,  and  St.  Alexander,  which  upon 
this  occasion  offered  a  most  brilliant  aspect.  There 
were  uniforms  glittering  with  orders,  varied  in  colour  and 
design  as  widely  as  the  imagination  can  possibly  conceive, 
mingling  with  the  costumes  of  the  great  ladies  of  the 
court,  some  of  whom  seemed  oppressed  by  their  weight 
of  diamonds;  and,  to  accentuate  the  splendour  of  the 
scene,  appeared  here  and  there  the  bizarre  costume  of 
some  Oriental  potentate,  a  Chinese  dignitary,  or  a  Siam- 


BREAD  AND  SALT  AND  DANCING.  169 

ese  prince.  Such  was  the  picture  framed  within  the 
three  great  historic  rooms.  I  have  already  described 
with  some  detail  the  Hall  of  St.  Andrew,  which  is  the 
Throne  Room,  and  will  therefore  only  give  here  a  brief 
description  of  the  halls  of  St.  George  and  St.  Alex- 
ander. 

Having  ascended  a  massive  granite  staircase,  which  is 
inclosed  with  walls  of  scagliola,  we  entered  the  state  apart- 
ments, which  were  illuminated  by  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  candles.  At  the  top  of  the  staircase,  and  before 
entering,  I  noticed  a  great  picture  of  the  victory  of  Di- 
mitri  of  the  Don  over  the  Tartars,  and  just  beyond  an- 
other of  the  present  Emperor's  father  receiving  the  dele- 
gations of  rural  mayors  after  his  coronation.  Behind 
him  stand  together  the  now  Dowager  Empress  and  the 
present  Tsar.  The  first  hall  we  entered  was  that  of  St. 
George.  It  is  decorated  in  white  and  gold,  the  walls  and 
the  arched  ceiling  being  ornamented  with  delicately  de- 
signed bas-reliefs.  The  enormous  chandeliers  which  are 
suspended  down  the  centre  are  of  gold.  The  hall  is  two 
hundred  feet  in  length  and  seventy  feet  high,  while  its 
full  width  is  fifty-eight  feet.  The  floor,  like  that  of  the 
Hall  of  St.  Alexander,  is  of  parquetry,  and  is  composed 
of  the  richest  woods  known  in  the  Empire,  highly  polished. 
On  the  columns  are  inscribed  the  names  of  the  Knights 
of  St.  George,  and  of  the  regiments  which  have  received 
the  Order  since  its  foundation.  They  are  written  in  let- 
ters of  gold  on  a  white  background,  and  form  the  honour 
roll  of  the  Eussian  Empire.  On  the  capitals  of  the  col- 
umns are  figures  of  Victory.  Each  of  them  bears  a  shield 
with  the  names  of  the  most  notable  Russian  conquests 
engraved  thereon.  From  this  hall  we  passed  into  the 
Hall  of  St.  Andrew.  Here  the  decoration  is  of  a  differ- 
ent character,  though  not  a  whit  less  brilliant.  In  place 
of  the  simple  white  and  gold,  it  has  all  the  colours  of  the 
rainbow  arranged  with  the  greatest  possible  taste.  On 
the  walls  are  six  superb  pictures  from  the  brush  of  Muller, 
representing  the  principal  exploits  of  St.  Alexander 
Nevski,  to  whom  the  hall  is  dedicated.  These  are  let  into 


170  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

panels  which  are  edged  with  gold.  All  the  columns  of 
this  hall  are  heavily  gilded,  and  the  shields,  panels,  and 
cornices  of  walls  and  ceiling  are  resplendent  with  the 
same  gleaming  metal.  There  are  both  pendent  and  bracket 
chandeliers,  and  when  illuminated  with  nearly  five  thou- 
sand candles,  the  apartment  presents  a  rich  and  dazzling 
scene  of  beauty.  The  chairs  which  are  placed  round  the 
walls  are  of  gold  framework  with  maroon  plush  uphol- 
stery. Of  the  same  colour  and  fabric  is  the  covering  of 
the  pyramidal  shelves  at  each  side  of  the  immense  en- 
trances, upon  which  during  any  great  fete  the  imperial 
plate  is  displayed.  Beyond  this  room  is  the  Hall  of  St. 
Andrew,  the  three  being  en  suite.  A  progress  through 
them  involves  a  distance  of  four  hundred  and  sixty-three 
feet.  Each  hall  has  its  own  peculiar  charm,  and  each  seems 
to  be  so  beautiful  that  the  spectator  is  lost  in  wonder  as 
he  turns  from  it  to  its  successor.  Conceive,  if  possible, 
this  superb  setting,  and  add  the  gorgeous  assembly  of 
human  beings  which  thronged  it  upon  that  night,  and  you 
will  have  a  faint  mental  picture  of  the  scene.  It  was,  of 
course,  the  night  of  all  others  for  the  display  of  regal 
attire;  and  surely  every  person  present  seemed  to  have 
entered  into  a  conspiracy  of  splendour.  The  young  Tsar 
was  arrayed  in  the  striking  uniform  of  the  Red  Hussars 
of  the  Guard,  while  the  Empress  was  in  the  simple  white 
which  she  so  much  affected,  and  which  seemed  to  become 
so  well  her  noble  girlish  beauty.  Seven  times  did  this 
royal  pair  traverse  the  length  of  the  three  halls  I  have 
just  described,  each  time  escorting  and  escorted  by  a  dif- 
ferent personage:  the  Tsar  leading  first  the  Empress,  then 
the  Queen  of  Greece,  then  the  Crown  Princess  of  Eou- 
mania,  and  Grand  Duchesses  in  their  order  of  precedence. 
The  Tsaritsa  was  led,  after  the  Emperor,  by  the  Due  de 
Montebello  (the  French  Ambassador),  Grand  Duke  Vladi- 
mir, the  Duke  of  Coburg-Gotha,  the  English  Ambassador, 
and  others.  A  retinue  of  royal  guests  followed  in  the 
train  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress.  These  processions 
were  made  to  the  stately  music  of  the  polonaise,  and  were 
watched  by  the  throng  of  nobles  and  distinguished  visi- 


BREAD  AND  SALT  AND  DANCING. 

tors  present,  who  formed  a  living  avenue  for  them  to  pass 
through. 

I  noted  with  no  little  pride  that  my  countrywomen 
present  fully  sustained  their  reputation  for  grace  of  man- 
ner and  elegance  of  appearance.  Mrs.  Potter  Palmer,  Mrs. 
Eoebling,  the  wife  of  the  famous  bridge  engineer,  Mrs. 
Breckinridge,  Mrs.  Alexander,  daughter  of  the  late  Charles 
Crocker  of  California,  Mrs.  Peirce,  the  wife  of  our  Secretary 
of  Legation,  the  Misses  Koon  of  Minneapolis,  Miss  Town- 
send  of  New  York,  and  my  own  dear  mother,  were  all 
worthy  representatives  of  America's  womanhood. 

Among  the  many  distinguished  women  from  other 
countries  who  particularly  attracted  my  notice  were 
the  Duchess  of  Connaught,  Duchess  of  Montebello,  Mrs. 
Lionel  Sackville  West,  Viscountess  Coke,  Mile.  Deprey, 
and  Princess  Eadolin  and  her  beautiful  daughters.  The 
Americans  present  were  escorted  by  Mr.  Pierre  Botkin, 
the  former  Secretary  of  the  Eussian  Legation  at  Wash- 
ington, and  now  a  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber  at  the  Im- 
perial Court.  His  many  attentions  and  untiring  efforts 
added  greatly  to  the  evening's  enjoyment. 

The  other  noteworthy  balls  during  the  coronation 
festivities  included  one  given  by  the  Grand  Duke  Serge, 
Civil  Governor  of  Moscow,  on  June  1st,  one  by  the  No- 
blesse Club  on  June  2d,  and  the  grand  ball  of  the  Palace 
of  the  Kremlin  on  June  4th.  At  all  of  these  the  Emperor 
and  Empress  and  all  the  high  court  dignitaries  were  pres- 
ent. The  ball  given  by  the  Grand  Duke  Serge,  while  an 
affair  of  great  elegance,  did  not  sufficiently  differ  from 
similar  entertainments  in  foreign  court  circles  to  call  for 
a  detailed  description.  It  took  place  in  the  official  resi- 
dence of  the  Governor  of  Moscow,  the  Grand  Duke  and 
Duchess  receiving  their  guests  with  gracious  dignity  of 
manner. 

The  ball  given  by  the  Noblesse  Club  of  Moscow  was  an 
entirely  novel  and  "  chic "  affair.  The  club's  home,  as 
befits  its  name,  is  one  of  the  noblest  buildings  in  all 
Moscow,  and  its  great  ballroom  presented  a  gay  and  beau- 
tiful spectacle.  The  dancing  hall  was  surrounded  on  all 


172  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

sides  by  salons  which  were  devoted  to  the  use  of  the  guests. 
At  the  end  of  this  ballroom  was  a  fountain  partly  con- 
cealed by  foliage  plants;  at  the  other  end  was  the  plat- 
form upon  which  the  Tsar  watched  the  dancing.  Around 
the  room  were  lavish  floral  decorations,  in  pleasing  con- 
trast to  the  white  and  gold  of  the  walls  and  ceilings  and  the 
great  crystal  chandeliers.  The  punch  bowls  upon  this  occa- 
sion were  ingeniously  devised  from  blocks  of  ice;  and 
every  dainty  artifice  known  to  the  caterer  or  the  florist 
had  been  employed  to  beautify  and  enrich  the  scene.  I 
noticed  at  one  end  of  the  room  a  balcony  filled  by  a  group 
of  gaily  dressed  little  ones,  the  children  of  the  nobility, 
who  were  thus  privileged  to  look  upon  a  scene  which  they 
would  probably  never  forget.  Taken  all  in  all,  this  ball 
was  one  of  the  most  enjoyable  functions  given  in  Mos- 
cow during  the  coronation.  The  grand  ball  at  the  Palace 
of  the  Kremlin  was  much  more  enjoyable  than  the  formal 
Courtag.  Here  every  one  danced,  not  excepting  the  Em- 
peror and  Empress,  who  joined  in  several  royal  quadrilles. 
The  dancing  and  all  other  arrangements  on  this  occa- 
sion were  under  the  control  of  the  Court  Chamberlains, 
who  carried  as  a  badge  of  office  ivory  sticks  crowned  with 
the  imperial  arms  in  gold,  and  with  a  bow  of  blue  ribbons 
tied  near  the  top.  Among  the  throng  were  the  Ameer 
of  Bokhara,  clothed  in  scarlet  robes  heavy  with  gold  em- 
broidery and  wearing  an  immense  fur  headdress,  and  the 
Khan  of  Khiva  in  garments  of  Oriental  richness.  The 
most  sumptuously  dressed  of  all  were  certain  Georgian 
princes,  whose  costumes  consisted  of  differently  coloured 
and  very  rich  velvets,  which,  were  ablaze  with  orders, 
shoulder  capes  of  rare  skins,  and  gilt  knee  boots.  I  was 
told  upon  inquiry  that  these  costumes  were  not  uniforms 
of  any  branch  of  the  military  service,  but  the  dresses 
peculiar  to  the  house  to  which  each  belonged. 

At  12.30  a  banquet  was  served  in  St.  George's  Hall, 
at  which  the  Tsar,  the  Tsaritsa,  and  the  royalties  sat  down 
with  all  the  assembled  guests. 

This  magnificent  affair  practically  ended  the  entertain- 
ments of  the  coronation.  Shall  I  say  that  I  was  tired? 


BREAD  AND  SALT  AND  DANCING.      173 

It  sounds  ungracious;  yet  when  the  reader  remembers 
the  constant  succession  of  elaborate  ceremonies,  each 
treading  upon  the  heels  of  the  other,  which  we  had  been 
attending  during  the  three  weeks  of  our  stay  in  Moscow, 
it  will  not  be  matter  of  wonder  to  him  if  he  thinks  of  me 
as  saying,  "  Hold,  enough!  " 

As  I  look  back  upon  these  three  weeks,  they  seem  to 
me  like  a  dream  of  splendour  through  which  I  had  passed; 
as  if  no  reality  could  reach  up  to  the  height  of  such  con- 
tinued and  constantly  varied  effect.  To  the  officials  who 
arranged  and  carried  out  the  elaborate  and  well-ordered 
pageant  it  is  impossible  to  accord  too  high  a  meed  of  praise. 
Of  course,  the  splendid  company  which  had  gathered  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth  to  do  honour  to  the  Tsar  formed  a 
picture  worthy  of  an  imperial  frame.  Such  a  frame  the 
Palace  of  the  Kremlin  provided,  and  so  indeed  did  the 
city  of  Moscow  with  its  matchless  beauty.  Nature,  too, 
seemed  to  exert  herself  to  add  to  the  success  of  the  coro- 
nation. The  weather  was  beautiful;  the  trees  were  dressed 
in  their  brightest  and  freshest  foliage;  and  as  one  looked 
from  some  point  of  vantage  upon  the  surrounding  fields, 
and  saw  their  carpets  of  green,  it  was  easy  to  understand 
why  the  authorities  chose  the  month  of  May  for  the  crown- 
ing of  their  Tsar.  If  the  bright  and  happy  scene  which 
attended  the  crowning  of  Nicholas  II  may  be  taken  as 
augury  of  his  reign,  then  that  reign  will  be  fair  and  pros- 
perous indeed.  That  it  may  be  so  was  the  wish,  I  feel  con- 
fident, of  every  one  privileged  to  be  present  at  its  com- 
mencement, and  of  the  millions  who  see  in  the  security 
and  welfare  of  Eussia  the  security  and  welfare  of  Europe 
and  Asia. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


IT  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  enormous  crowds  of 
peasants  and  others  of  the  lower  classes  congregated  in 
Moscow  during  the  coronation  festivities  were  attracted 
there  solely  by  the  promptings  of  patriotism.  There  were 
other  motives  at  work,  though,  so  far  as  patriotism  is 
concerned,  I  suppose  that  no  other  peasantry  in  the  wide 
world  can  compare  with  the  Russian  moujik  for  thor- 
oughgoing worship,  for  absolute,  unreasoning,  and  blind 
idolatry  of  his  ruler.  Whatever  happens  of  an  evil  nature 
in  the  nation  is  by  the  moujik  charged  up  to  some  one  else 
— probably  the  priests — never  by  any  means  to  the  "  Lit- 
tle Father."  In  their  eyes  he  can  do  no  wrong.  If  at  any 
time  he  should  command  a  certain  number  of  them  to  be 
killed,  they  would  go  to  their  death  confident  that  some 
unseen  power  of  evil  was  working  through  the  Emperor; 
and  that  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  was  as  true  and  merciful 
to  his  children  as  they  were  loyal  and  faithful  to  him.  By 
the  enormous  strength  of  such  unreasoning  patriotism  is 
the  throne  of  Russia  supported.  From  this  class  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  army  are  recruited,  an  army  which  is  the 
consummation  of  discipline  because  every  soldier  in  its 
ranks  is  a  blind  idolater  and  has  learned  at  his  mother's 
knees,  and  in  the  village  church,  that  the  noblest  thing 
he  can  do  is  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  ruler  or  to  spend 
it  in  unquestioning  service.  To  such  a  peasantry  the 
crowning  of  a  new  Tsar  is  the  event  of  a  lifetime.  It  is 
something  to  date  back  to  ever  after.  They  look  forward 
to  it  for  months;  every  nerve  is  strained;  every  neces- 

174 


THE  PEOPLE'S  F^TE.  175 

sary  of  life  curtailed  in  order  to  enable  the  father,  mother, 
and  one  or  two  of  the  older  children  to  make  the  journey 
to  Moscow  to  participate  in  the  magnificent  event  in  which 
every  Eussian  rejoices. 

Without  this  patriotic  motive,  however,  the  peasants 
would  be  attracted  to  Moscow  during  the  coronation  festi- 
val by  other  and  far  less  idealistic  reasons.  To  the  com- 
mon people  a  coronation  partakes  of  the  nature  of  an 
enormous  spree.  Thousands  leave  their  homes,  their  daily 
drudgery,  and  their  colourless  dreary  life,  to  make  this, 
to  them,  the  journey  of  a  lifetime.  And  so,  with  pack  on 
back,  they  set  forth,  trudging  long  weary  miles.  They  go 
in  droves  from  neighbouring  villages,  carrying  with  them 
meagre  rations  of  black  bread;  and  by  the  roadside  they 
brew  their  thin  decoction  called  tea.  At  night  they  sleep 
beneath  the  stars,  and  wherever  they  happen  to  be.  So 
far  it  is  a  rather  mild  sort  of  spree.  As  they  journey  on, 
the  throng  grows  in  size.  Tributary  streams  from  con- 
vergent roads  swell  the  multitude.  The  lethargic  joy 
develops.  Views  are  interchanged — Did  I  say  views? 
Forbid  the  term!  They  have  no  views — only  crudest  senti- 
ments. These  they  vary  with  mouthfuls  of  their  beloved 
kalatschs  and  occasional  cups  of  the  burning,  dreadful 
vodka.  The  one  health  they  drink  is  to  "  the  Little 
Father."  The  one  word  upon  their  lips  is  the  name  of 
Nicholas;  or  it  may  be  varied  now  and  again  by  the  name 
of  his  fair  young  Empress,  Alexandra  Feodorovna!  And 
presently,  so  proceeding,  the  "  Holy  City "  dawns  upon 
their  delighted  eyes.  Their  mouths  open  in  amazement, 
if  it  is  the  first  time  they  have  gazed  upon  it;  in  joyful 
greeting,  if  they  have  looked  upon  its  sacred  minarets  be- 
fore. 

Once  within  the  city,  this  village  Ivan,  his  tributary 
"souls"  and  his  patient,  plodding  wife,  stalk  about  its 
streets  as  the  Huns  must  have  done  in  ancient  Eome, 
only  far  less  haughtily.  Still  they  trudge  and  trudge,  and 
still  wonder.  They  seldom  speak.  Language  is  but  a 
poor  and  feeble  instrument  to  express  such  amazement 
as  they  experience.  If  the  stern  gorodovoy  bids  them 


176  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

clear  the  path,  they  move  like  dumb  cattle  aside,  and  look 
upon  him  as  upon  some  lesser  god.  If  he  beats  or  kicks 
them,  like  the  patient  ox  they  move  on  but  a  shade  faster, 
and  almost  think  themselves  raised  in  dignity  that  they 
have  lived  to  be  kicked  in  Moscow.  And  so  they  gaze 
upon  the  city.  They  stand  rapt  in  holy  ecstasy  before 
her  sacred  shrines.  "  With,  divinest  self -surrender  "  they 
bow  before  the  tombs  of  the  saints.  The  earth  is  not  low 
enough  for  the  prostrations  with  which  they  worship  the 
Sacred  Mother  of  Iberia.  As  they  do  reverence  before  the 
Holy  Gate,  they  look  upon  the  Palace  of  the  Kremlin,  and 
whisper  to  each  other  with  bated  breath,  "  JTis  the  home 
of  the  Great  White  Tsar!  "  There  is  not  a  shrine  in  Mos- 
cow that  is  not  dear  to  them — dear  though  in  their  hope- 
less ignorance  they  know  nothing  of  its  history;  though 
the  saint  to  whom  it  is  sacred  means  nothing  more  to 
them  than  the  merest  name;  though  all  the  splendour  of 
its  architecture,  the  wealth  of  its  possessions,  the  awe  of 
its  tradition,  is  to  them  now  and  forever  a  sealed,  yea,  a 
thrice-sealed  book.  Still  those  dumb,  oxlike  eyes  look 
upon  the  celestial  scene,  and  as  they  look,  the  wealth  of 
all  these  associations,  the  beauty  of  the  imperial  kaleido- 
scope of  gorgeous  colour,  sweeps  through  their  quiet  souls, 
and,  though  they  know  it  not,  they  are  from  that  moment 
richer — they  become  then  more  truly  "  souls,"  and  life 
never  again  can  become  quite  so  dumb,  so  hopeless,  or  so 
gray! 

And  then  they  eat  and  drink!  Ah!  Heaven  itself  would 
be  a  poor  abiding  place  to  Ivan  without  the  fact  of  food. 
But  here  he  eats  en  prince.  He  has  brought  a  few  roubles 
with  him.  With  these  he  buys  food  galore,  chiefly  black 
bread  and  a  villainous  compound  of  fat,  garlic,  and  scraps 
of  meat  rolled  together,  and  called  by  courtesy  a  "  sausage." 
Between  the  huge  mouthfuls  he  swallows  boiling  tea;  and, 
to  complete  his  happiness,  finally  becomes  serenely  and 
completely  drunk  on  vodka.  Ah!  This  is  indeed  the 
"  spree  of  a  lifetime! "  Then  he  sleeps  the  sleep  of  the 
virtuous  and  the  drunken,  and  it  matters  not  to  him 
where  he  may  find  that  sleep.  I  have  seen  him  drop  down 


THE  PEOPLE'S  F^ITE.  177 

in  the  middle  of  the  public  highway  and  compose  him- 
self as  serenely  as  if  he  were  in  a  private  room  in  the  best 
hotel  in  Moscow.  And  the  careful  isvoschik  will  pick 
his  way  in  and  out  among  these  drunken  or  weary  sleepers, 
and  leave  them  unharmed;  for  if  they  are  drunk  he  re- 
spects the  cause  of  their  drunkenness,  while  he  envies 
them  their  drink;  and  if  they  are  simply  asleep  with  weari- 
ness, he  still  more  respects  the  devout  impulse  which  has 
brought  them  so  far  and  made  them  so  tired. 

For  those  who  have  no  food,  the  Tsar  provides  during 
each  day  of  his  stay  in  Moscow  dinners  to  the  number  of 
five  thousand.  This  is  a  usual  thing.  At  the  coronation 
of  one  of  the  Tsars — I  think  it  was  Nicholas  I — there 
were  tables  spread  every  day  that  reached  for  miles,  and 
about  these  tables  gathered  the  hungry  mob,  to  eat  and 
drink,  and  glut  themselves  as  they  probably  had  never 
done  before,  and  in  all  likelihood  never  would  do  again. 
Here  is  a  relic  of  feudalism,  in  which  the  serf  always 
looked  to  his  lord  for  food  and  raiment,  and  always  re- 
ceived it. 

Day  after  day  the  streets  of  Moscow  were  filled  with 
crowds  of  just  such  peasants  and  pilgrims.  They  were  like 
sheep  without  a  shepherd.  In  the  churches  they  kissed 
anything  and  everything  pertaining  to  a  saint;  they  bowed 
willing  knees  at  every  shrine,  gaped  in  wonder  at  every 
gaudy  equipage;  and  when,  perchance,  the  word  was 
passed  along  that  the  Emperor  was  coming,  their  dull 
eyes  would  light  up — almost  flash — and  as  he  swept  by, 
they  would  gaze  like  lost  souls  upon  a  saviour  god,  and, 
having  seen  that  imperial  face,  straightway  fall  upon  their 
knees,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  throng,  and  begin  to  offer 
thanks  to  their  Maker  that  they  had  seen  the  Tsar! 
Match  that  if  you  can  outside  of  Eussia.  I  know  not 
of  its  equal.  It  stands  unique  for  blind  political  and  re- 
ligious devotion  to  the  person  of  a  monarch. 

Now,  of  all  this  wondering,  gaping,  sleepy  throng,  the 
Tsar  has  been  duly  mindful.  He  has  made  provision  for 
all  his  guests,  peasant  as  well  as  prince,  moujik  as  well 
as  grand  duke.  For  them  is  the  daily  dinner  I  have  men- 


178  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

tioned;  for  them  are  the  medals,  if  perchance  they  may 
happily  prevail  against  the  mighty  crowd  and  gain  one; 
and  for  them,  above  all  else,  is  that  great  day  of  the 
"  people's  fete."  Ah!  that  was  a  day  to  be  remembered. 
It  will  rest  forever  beneath  the  shadow  of  a  great  catas- 
trophe, for  on  that  day  nearly  three  thousand  human 
beings  paid  the  penalty  of  their  enthusiasm,  of  their  pa- 
triotism. But  of  that  later  on. 

Saturday,  the  30th  of  May,  was  set  apart  for  this  popu- 
lar celebration  on  the  mighty  Khodynskoe  plain.  It  is 
a  vast  level  of  sand  and  grass,  which  lies  opposite  the 
Petrovski  Palace  and  stretches  away  beyond  the  line  of 
vision,  for  it  is  on  the  border  of  the  city,  where  it  merges 
into  the  great  flat  surrounding  country.  This  is  the 
people's  fete,  but  it  is  also  the  fete  of  their  Emperor.  An 
imperial  pavilion  had  been  erected  from  which  the  Tsar 
and  Tsaritsa,  surrounded  by  the  members  of  their  court, 
watched  the  spectacle  which  they  had  provided.  Behind 
them  and  on  the  floor  below,  the  pavilion  was  crowded 
with  the  nobility  of  Eussia.  And  such  a  fete!  Only  a 
Barnum  could  have  designed  it.  Everything  in  the  way 
of  outdoor  shows  was  there,  from  classical  concert  to  alle- 
gorical drama,  from  resplendent  ballet  to  jolly  clown. 
Some  one  compared  the  great  crowd  to  Donny  brook  Fair! 
Yes,  multiply  Donnybrook  Fair  by  fifty,  and  then  double 
that,  and  you  would  about  reach  the  proportions  of  this 
mighty  throng,  and  of  the  heterogeneous  show.  Stand- 
ing nearly  opposite  the  Petrovski  Palace,  with  its  back 
to  the  road,  was  the  imperial  pavilion,  surrounded  with 
immense  foliage  plants  and  various  other  adornments,  and 
draped  with  flags  and  gaily-coloured  bunting.  It  was  a 
matchless  day.  The  sun  illuminated  everything.  And  the 
sight  from  that  pavilion  was  brilliant  indeed.  Flanking 
the  structure  on  either  hand  stood  two  large  tribunes 
erected  for  the  use  of  the  Diplomatic  Corps.  These  also 
were  filled  with  a  brilliant  assembly  of  notables.  Standing 
in  front,  and  slightly  to  the  left  of  these  structures,  was 
an  enormous  stand  for  the  united  singing  societies  which 
furnished  the  choral  music;  behind  this  were  the  booths 


THE  PEOPLE'S  F^TE.  179 

before  which  the  terrible  disaster  had  occurred  earlier  in 
the  day.  As  I  glanced  upon  the  scene,  it  seemed  scarcely 
credible  that  not  twelve  hours  before  so  many  lives  had 
been  sacrificed  upon  this  very  spot. 

On  this  mighty  plain,  and  stretching  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  was  a  great  mass  of  human  beings,  face  to 
face  with  the  Tsar  they  had  come  so  far  to  see;  for,  not- 
withstanding the  disaster  of  the  early  morning,  the  young 
monarch  had  wisely  come  to  the  festival  of  the  common 
people — wisely,  for  it  is  not  best  to  let  the  unthinking 
brood  too  deeply  over  the  irretrievable,  nor  was  it  well  to 
cheat  the  mighty  multitude  of  the  show  which  was  essen- 
tially its  own. 

I  can  not  attempt  to  give  a  detailed  description  of  the 
feast  in  all  its  well-nigh  infinite  variety;  but  cast  an  eye 
with  me  over  the  bewildering,  ever-changing  scene.  Stand 
in  the  centre  of  the  Tsar's  pavilion  and  look  outward. 
Everywhere  people,  everywhere  laughter,  shouts  of  joy, 
and  faces  beaming  with  interest.  On  the  plain  different 
stages  have  been  erected,  and  different  sets  of  performers 
are  engaged  in  amusing  the  people.  Here  every  taste  may 
be  satisfied.  Projecting  the  proverbial  grain  of  salt  into 
the  quotation,  we  may  say  with  Polonius: 

The  best  actors  in  the  world,  either  for  tragedy,  comedy,  history, 
pastoral,  pastoral-comical,  historical-pastoral,  tragical-historical,  tragi- 
cal-comical-historical-pastoral, scene  individable,  or  poem  unlimited : 
Seneca  can  not  be  too  heavy,  nor  Plautus  too  light. 

But,  indeed,  the  pastoral-comical  seemed  to  prevail 
both  as  to  number  and  popularity.  Among  the  different 
scenes  I  had  a  chance  to  witness  were  some  allegorical 
representations.  One,  in  which  the  fortunes  of  Eussia, 
after  doing  battle  with  all  manner  of  contending  evil, 
were  gloriously  triumphant,  awakened  considerable  in- 
terest among  the  more  thoughtful;  but  this  was  not  to  be 
compared  with  that  created  by  the  entertainment  given 
by  a  clever  juggler,  or  by  the  clown  who  interspersed  his 
own  weak  jokes  with  the  marvellous  antics  of  a  troupe 
of  trained  hedgehogs. 


180  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

I  was  interested  to  observe  that  the  comedy  scene  was 
the  most  attractive,  even  to  the  sober-minded  Russian 
peasants.  Of  course  they  were  greatly  pleased  with  the 
historical  representations  whenever  the  Russian  was  vic- 
torious— and,  by  the  way,  he  always  was  victorious,  by 
some  special  providence;  but  it  was  always  the  clown, 
the  conjuror,  or  the  comedian  who  succeeded  in  attract- 
ing the  largest  throngs.  Russian  peasants  are  after  all 
like  so  many  overgrown  children,  "  pleased  with  a  straw, 
and  tickled  with  a  feather "  ;  they  enjoyed  with  all  the 
zest  of  little  children  at  a  Christmas  pantomime  the  vari- 
ous scenes  provided  for  them.  Look  yonder,  and  you 
will  see  that  great  bearded  Muscovite,  who  looks  as  though 
he  could  fell  an  ox  with  his  naked  fist,  almost  go  into  hys- 
terics as  the  conjuror  extracts  a  pretty  little  white  rabbit 
from  his  wife's  ear,  which,  in  all  truth,  is  almost  big 
enough  for  a  rabbit  hutch.  Observe  the  strained  expres- 
sion of  deathless  interest  with  which  they  watch  the  scene 
from  village  life,  in  which  all  the  rust  and  dirt  are  re- 
moved, and  it  is  shown  as  it  might  be,  clean  and  glad  and 
frolicsome.  This  must  be  heaven  indeed  to  these  peasant 
people.  The  glittering  ballet  is  almost  too  much  for 
Ivan,  who  does  not,  however,  look  upon  its  bewildering 
charms  with  a  lustful  eye.  The  dancers  are  to  him  all 
personifications  of  grace  and  beauty  and  innocence.  He 
does  not  look  behind  the  rouge  and  the  tinsel,  nor  stop 
to  analyze  the  morality  of  the  troupe.  Happy  Ivan!  This 
day  all  to  him  is  fair.  He  takes  the  scene  for  its  face  value; 
and  from  his  point  of  view  the  face  value  is  very  great 
indeed. 

Among  other  joys  provided  for  him  were  a  troupe  of 
trained  bears — bears  that  rode  bicycles,  and  that  sat  up  in 
a  grave  family  circle,  and  looked  almost,  if  not  quite,  as 
grave  as  Ivan  himself.  Here  was  the  circus,  with  its 
trained  horses  and  bespangled  riders,  its  chariot  races  and 
its  other  wonders.  There  a  lot  of  ambitious  peasants,  intent 
upon  trying  to  reach  the  top  of  three  well-greased  poles, 
sweat,  swear,  and  toil — but  the  grease  is  too  much  even  for  a 
moujik — a  moujik,  who  is  never  anything  else  than  greasy. 


THE  PEOPLE'S  FfiTE.  181 

Athletes  of  all  varieties  performed  their  marvellous  feats 
for  Ivan.  On  one  side,  the  awkward  movements  of  a 
sack  race;  on  the  other,  the  still  more  ungainly  move- 
ments of  a  man  on  stilts;  here  a  tight-rope  walker;  there 
a  juggler,  balancing  half  a  dozen  spinning  plates  and,  to 
crown  all,  a  lighted  lamp,  amazed  and  held  him  spell- 
bound. 

But  the  joy  of  joys  for  Ivan  was  when  his  turn  ar- 
rived to  sit  astride  one  of  the  painted  wooden  horses  in 
the  "  merry-go-round."  This  was  almost  too  much  for  the 
simple  peasant.  Ah,  ride  on,  Ivan!  Shout  for  joy.  This 
is  to  you  the  most  joyful  moment  of  existence,  and  the 
memory  of  it  shall  serve  to  brighten  the  hunger-stricken, 
half -frozen  hours  of  the  coming  winter.  Ride  on!  For 
who  shall  say,  my  Ivan,  that  your  joy  is  not  as  great  as 
that  of  the  mighty  lords  yonder  who,  covered  with  glit- 
tering orders,  bestride  their  prancing  steeds,  but  perhaps 
are  weighed  down  with  how  great  a  load  of  misery  and  self- 
reproach?  Yes,  ride  on,  Ivan!  Shout  and  shout  yet  again 
for  the  Great  White  Tsar,  who  knows  full  well  the  dreari- 
ness of  your  daily  life,  and,  as  he  hears  your  joyful  voice, 
smiles  happily,  for  you — yes,  even  you,  Ivan — are  one  of 
his  children. 

I  apprehend  that  there  is  nowhere  else  to  be  seen  any- 
thing like  this  great  fete  for  the  people  which  occurs  at 
the  coronation  of  a  Tsar.  It  was  like  the  gathering  of  a 
family  of  half  a  million  simple  children  and  setting  them 
loose  among  all  they  loved  best  in  the  way  of  fun  and 
hilarity.  The  Khodynskoe  plain  was  fairly  alive  with  these 
big,  hairy,  unwashed,  simple  creatures,  and  all  of  them 
were  as  happy  as  they  ever  would  be  on  earth.  All,  did 
I  say?  Scarcely;  for  here  and  there  one  saw  a  face  of 
gloom,  which  brought  to  mind  the  early  morning  tragedy. 

It  is  bad  policy  to  reserve  the  gloom  and  shadow  for 
the  closing  lines  of  such  a  narrative  as  this;  and  did  I  not 
think  that  the  disaster  of  the  Khodynskoe  plain  had  served 
to  bring  into  prominence  one  of  the  brightest  facts  of  the 
entire  fete,  I  should  have  passed  it  by  altogether  or  made 
mention  of  it  earlier.  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  entire  truth 


182  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

told  about  the  terrible  accident  which  marred  the  early 
hours  of  that  day. 

It  had  become  rumoured  among  the  moujiks  that  the 
supply  of  souvenir  cups  to  be  given  out  was  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  the  number  there  to  receive  them.  Ugly 
rumours  were  circulated  that  this  was  the  result  of  jobbery 
on  the  part  of  foreign  contractors.  Ivan's  mind  immedi- 
ately became  tense.  His  Tsar  had  meant  to  honour  him, 
but  some  rogue  would  thwart  the  imperial  will.  Not  if 
he  (Ivan)  knew  it.  Not  if  he  (Ivan)  had  to  sit  up  all  night 
to  be  in  place;  not  even  if  he  had  to  fight  for  it  would  he 
miss  one  of  the  longed-for  mementos  of  his  Emperor's 
thought  of  him.  And  so  he  did  sit  up  all  night;  or,  rather,  he 
lay  out  upon  the  broad  Khodynskoe  plain  beneath  the 
stars. 

Here,  then,  was  a  mighty  throng  of  several  hun- 
dred thousand  people  all  intent  upon  not  being  cheated 
out  of  this  souvenir  of  their  Emperor's  love.  Consider 
this  seething  mass!  Think  of  the  mighty  blind  force 
within  it  and  behind  it!  Let  it  sleep;  for  if  it  once 
awaken  and  find  out  its  own  power,  there  will  be  death 
and  doom  for  many.  And  so  indeed  there  were!  Two  thou- 
sand eight  hundred  and  thirty-six  were  gathered  in  the 
early  morning  from  the  scene  of  this  terrible  awakening 
and  carried  to  the  morgue,  the  churches,  and  the  build- 
ings of  the  fire  department.  It  is  dangerous  to  play  with 
Ivan  too  long.  He  stretches  out  his  arms  and  tears  those 
before  him.  He  tramples  on  them,  he  destroys  them.  I 
was  told,  and  truthfully,  that  in  an  attempt  to  separate 
the  crowd  at  the  point  where  the  greatest  havoc  was  being 
wrought,  fifty  Cossacks,  headed  by  a  young  lieutenant, 
were  told  to  ride  among  the  people,  but  not  to  use  their 
weapons.  They  did  so.  And  though  history  will  not  tell 
the  story  in  phrase  so  eloquent,  they  matched  the  achieve- 
ment of  the  six  hundred  at  Balaklava.  Not  one  of  them 
returned.  They  were  torn  apart.  Ivan  was  awake.  Some 
one — he  cared  not  who — stood  between  the  Little  Father 
and  himself.  Some  one  suffered.  Yes,  Ivan  was,  indeed, 
awake! 


THE  PEOPLE'S  FfiTE.  183 

The  story  of  how  it  happened  is  simple.  The  officials, 
having  heard  of  the  discontent  and  suspicion  among  the 
people,  determined  to  distribute  the  cups  and  bread  and 
meat  before  the  crowd  grew  either  greater  or  angrier. 
So  they  opened  the  booths,  and  then,  like  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  up  rolled  the  mighty  throng.  That  is  all.  The  rest 
is  just  what  would  have  happened  with  any  crowd  of 
maddened  human  beings.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  an  excited  crowd.  Sea  and  tempest  and  fire 
are  terrible  when  aroused;  they  are  as  lambs  beside  wolves 
when  compared  with  the  raging  of  a  human  tempest  or 
the  burning  of  a  human  fire. 

And  the  "Little  Father,"  the  "Great  White  Tsar," 
what  does  he  say? 

It  is  often  said  that  there  is  no  catastrophe  so 
great  but  that  it  carries  with  it  some  accompanying 
blessing.  "Well,  the  tragedy  on  the  Khodynskoe  plain 
served  to  show  the  entire  Eussian  people  that  their  new 
ruler  has  a  kind,  a  brave,  a  manly  heart.  As  soon  as  he 
was  informed  of  the  accident  the  Emperor  called  for  his 
horse,  and,  accompanied  by  an  aide-de-camp,  rode  to  the 
scene  of  the  carnage.  Here  he  showed  the  greatest  grief 
over  what  had  happened,  and  at  once  gave  orders  that 
all  the  resources  of  the  Government  should  be  employed 
for  the  relief  of  the  injured  and  for  the  removal  of  the 
dead.  Out  of  his  own  private  purse  he  ordered  that  five 
hundred  roubles  should  be  given  to  each  family  a  member 
of  which  had  been  killed;  and,  better  than  all  else,  he  and 
the  Empress  went  in  person  to  the  different  hospitals,  and 
expressed  their  personal  sympathy  for  the  sufferers.  So  the 
death  of  the  unfortunate  victims  of  the  Khodynskoe  plain 
laid  the  foundations  of  a  sympathy  between  the  great 
under  class  of  the  Eussian  people  and  the  throne.  It 
showed  the  Tsar  how  much  Ivan  loved  him;  it  revealed 
to  Ivan  how  much  he  was  loved  by  his  Tsar. 


13 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HOW  WE   WASHED   IN   KUSSIA. 

THE  Russians  as  a  nation  and  to  a  man  bathe  so  pecul- 
iarly, so  uniquely,  that  the  casual  observer  associates  hot 
vapour  baths  with  fur-clad  Slavs  and  scarcely  thinks  of 
the  former  without  automatically  thinking  of  the  latter. 
By  a  study  of  the  Russian's  bathing  habits  does  the  man 
of  learning  trace  the  Russian's  descent;  or,  at  least,  he 
cites  those  habits  as  strong  corroborative  evidence  of  the 
descent  of  the  Slavs  from  the  Scythians  of  old.  Herodotus, 
the  truth  teller,  says  of  the  Scythians  that  they  used  hot 
vapour  baths,  and  never  washed  their  bodies  in  water. 
And  scholars  have  quoted  this  statement  ever  since  in  sup- 
port of  the  theory  that  the  Russians  are  largely  of  Scythian 
stock.  But,  however  that  may  be,  and  leaving  so  nice  a 
question  as  the  remote  origin  of  the  Slavic  peoples  to  men 
of  wide  and  deep  erudition,  the  Russian  baths  are  distinct- 
ively Russian — far  more  so  than  were  the  sumptuous  baths 
of  old  Rome  Roman.  And  I  thought  them  interesting — 
interesting  in  themselves  and  interesting  in  the  similarity 
of  essentials  and  dissimilarity  of  detail  that  exist  between 
the  baths  of  the  Russian  rich  and  the  baths  of  the  Russian 
poor. 

My  tin  bath-tub  was  not  an  unqualified  success.  It 
was  a  very  nice  tub,  too.  But  they  still  persisted  in  heat- 
ing the  water  a  samovarful  at  a  time.  Perhaps  they  had 
no  choice  but  to  do  so.  At  all  events,  I  became  a  fre- 
quent patron  of  the  Moscow  vapour  baths. 

I  think  the  story  of  the  Moscow  baths  is  worth  the 
telling.  As  I  have  already  said,  the  ordinary  bath-tub — 

184 


HOW  WE  WASHED  IN  RUSSIA.  185 

without  which  no  well-ordered  house  in  America  is  con- 
sidered complete — is  altogether  a  stranger  to  Eussian 
domiciles.  This  is  perhaps  owing  to  imperfect  water  sup- 
ply; or  it  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Kussian  when  he 
bathes  goes  in  for  something  very  elaborate  and  luxurious. 
The  Turkish  bath  of  America  or  England  is  not  to  be 
compared  with  the  fine  new  bath-house  which  has  been 
recently  completed  in  Moscow  at  a  cost  of  two  millions 
of  dollars.  From  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  society,  which 
is  a  far  greater  stretch  in  Russia  than  with  us,  all  classes 
are  provided  for  in  these  great  bathing  caravansaries.  Hav- 
ing once  found  my  way  to  them,  after  facing  the  almost 
insuperable  difficulties  which  bathing  at  home  involved, 
I  became  a  frequent  visitor.  After  one  gets  used  to  the 
novelties  involved  in  the  Eussian  bath  they  are  as  decidedly 
agreeable  as  they  are  splendidly  luxurious.  There  is  in 
every  Eussian  village  a  bath-house  in  which  the  peasants 
steam  themselves  at  least  once  a  week,  but  I  shall  speak 
of  these  later  on.  I  mention  them  here  merely  to  em- 
phasize the  fact  that  the  practice  of  taking  a  weekly  steam 
is  a  national  practice,  and  embraces  all  classes.  Perhaps 
in  the  case  of  the  vodka-drinking  peasant  it  is  this  weekly 
parboil  which  saves  his  life  and  postpones  the  dreadful 
day  when  the  constant  imbibing  of  unlimited  quantities  of 
the  deadly  liquor  must  be  paid  for. 

The  principal  bath  in  Moscow  occupies  an  entire  square. 
It  is  divided  through  the  centre  each  way,  and  thus  forms 
four  equal  departments.  These  departments  are  used 
separately  for  the  different  kinds  of  baths — I  should  say 
for  the  different  classes;  for  as  with  the  stars,  so  in  Eus- 
sia  one  bath  differeth  from  another  bath  in  glory.  They 
also  differ  very  widely  indeed  in  price.  The  highest 
priced  bath  is  twelve  roubles — practically  about  six  dollars 
and  a  half — while  the  lowest  is,  I  believe,  twenty-five 
kopecks,  or  about  thirteen  cents.  The  distance  here  ex- 
pressed in  values  is  about  the  distance  which  separates 
the  most  opulent  from  the  poorest  class  in  Eussian  life. 
For  the  lowest  price  the  bather  gets  a  good  fierce  steam- 
ing, soap  and  water  to  give  himself  a  good  scrubbing,  and 


186  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

a  coarse  towel  with  which  to  dry  himself.  That,  together 
with  the  exceptional  luxury  of  clean  surroundings,  is  all 
he  does  get  for  his  twenty-five  kopecks.  It  was  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line  that  I  experimented  with  the  Eussian 
baths,  and  very  enjoyable  and  Oriental  I  found  them  to  be. 

The  building  is  a  fine  one.  It  is  of  brick  covered  with 
adamantine  plaster  in  imitation  of  stone,  which  prevents 
its  being  affected  by  frost.  The  entrances  to  the  more  ex- 
pensive baths  are  very  fine  and  imposing  indeed;  and  the 
entrances  for  the  lower-priced  baths  are  also  very  inviting. 
Within  the  outer  door  of  the  bath  which  I  frequented, 
and  facing  the  door,  was  a  fountain  with  foliage  plants, 
and  adjoining  these  a  buffet  for  drinks,  "  soft "  and  other- 
wise. At  the  entrance  stood  a  porter,  dressed  in  white, 
to  whom  we  handed  our  outer  wraps,  and  also  our  cards. 
This,  I  suppose,  for  identification  in  case  of  any  accident 
occurring  while  one  is  within  the  bath.  The  long  hall 
which  leads  to  the  baths  is  floored  and  ceiled  with  marble; 
the  windows  are  of  rich  stained  glass,  and  at  the  end  there 
is  a  flight  of  marble  steps,  at  the  head  of  which  is  an  iron 
gateway  richly  decorated  with  gilt,  which  leads  into  the 
inner  apartments.  This  hall  is  in  the  form  of  a  cloister, 
and  creates  an  impression  of  ecclesiasticism.  Behind  these 
gates  is  a  long,  narrow  hallway,  and  on  each  side  of  this 
hall  are  the  doors  leading  into  the  private  suites  of  apart- 
ments which  are  set  apart  for  the  more  expensive  baths. 
Each  bather  has  a  separate  suite  of  apartments,  which 
may  be  used  by  a  small  party,  if  two  or  three  friends  wish 
to  bathe  together. 

I  will  attempt  to  give  the  reader  a  description  of  the 
suite  which  I  used  while  in  Moscow.  The  first  apart- 
ment is  a  boudoir.  This  is  richly  furnished  with  Turkish 
hangings  and  rugs.  On  the  walls  are  splendid  mirrors 
and  oil  paintings,  mostly  of  bathing  scenes,  peopled  by 
large-limbed  females;  arranged  about  the  room  are  dress- 
ing tables  and  luxurious  chairs  and  couches.  In  this 
boudoir  the  bather  disrobes. 

The  second  room  is  much  larger  in  size  and  is  lined 
with  tiles  throughout.  In  the  centre  of  this  chamber  is 


HOW  WE  WASHED  IN  RUSSIA.  187' 

a  fountain  of  water,  clear  as  crystal,  surrounded  by  a  marble 
basin.  On  one  side  of  the  room  are  two  marble  slabs  for 
the  bather  to  recline  upon  while  being  shampooed;  and 
on  the  opposite  side  is  a  small  plunge.,  octagonal  in  shape, 
and  surrounded  by  a  brass  rail.  This  plunge  is  five  feet 
deep  and  about  ten  feet  in  diameter.  In  one  corner  of 
the  room  are  a  shower  and  needle  spray.  Of  course,  every- 
thing is  scrupulously  clean.  The  bather  passes  through 
this  apartment  to  the  third,  which  is  the  hot  room;  and 
here  the  serious  business  of  the  bath  begins.  This  room  is 
in  size  about  fourteen  by  ten  feet.  It  is  lined  throughout 
with  wood,  and  around  the  wall  is  a  balcony  so  close  to 
the  ceiling  that  when  an  ordinary  man  stands  erect  his 
head  is  within  a  few  inches  of  it.  On  the  balcony  are 
benches  to  lie  upon,  and  in  the  corner  is  a  sink  from  which 
the  attendant  constantly  brings  supplies  of  cold  water  to 
refresh  the  bather. 

Lying  on  this  bench,  the  novice  discovers  just  how 
serious  a  business  a  Russian  bath  is.  In  one  corner  is  a 
large  oven  in  which  large  blocks  of  wood  are  placed,  and 
when  they  have  become  sufficiently  heated  the  attendant 
throws  over  them  quantities  of  cold  water  sufficient  to 
make  as  much  steam  as  if  a  boiler  had  burst.  At  first  the 
feeling  is  one  of  suffocation.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
bear  the  steam,  and  would  be  quite  so  but  for  the  douch- 
ing with  cold  water  which  the  attendant  never  neglects. 
In  order  to  enhance  the  steam,  bunches  of  birch  twigs  are 
first  dipped  in  water  and  then  thrust  into  the  oven.  Dur- 
ing the  steaming  process  the  attendant  takes  one  of  these 
bunches  of  birch  rods  and  proceeds  to  beat  the  bather, 
with  the  idea  of  driving  the  steam  into  the  pores  of  the 
skin.  This  part  of  the  bath  was  quite  reminiscent  of  one's 
school  days.  All  this  time,  however,  there  is  the  cold  water 
as  a  refuge.  When  one  has  endured  this  torture  till  he  is 
of  the  colour  of  a  well-boiled  lobster,  and  his  skin  suffi- 
ciently tender  and  sore,  he  leaves  the  hot  room  for  the 
second  room.  Here  takes  place  the  ordinary  shampooing 
process  which  is  a  part  of  every  Turkish  bath  with  us. 
There  is  any  quantity  of  clean,  fresh  excelsior,  which  is 


188  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

never  used  twice,  warm  water,  and  a  thoroughly  accom- 
plished shampooer.  After  this  come  the  plunge  and  the 
douche,  or  both  or  neither,  as  one's  tastes  dictate. 

I  have  never  had  a  more  luxurious  bath,  so  far  as  this 
section  of  it  was  concerned,  though  I  must  confess  that 
the  vigorous  treatment  of  the  hot  room  was  at  first  a  trifle 
too  much  for  me.  I  grew  accustomed  to  it,  however,  and 
the  feeling  of  invigoration  which  followed  quite  recon- 
ciled me  to  its  momentary  rigours. 

From  the  shampooing  room  you  return  to  the  boudoir, 
and  there  sleep,  or  smoke,  or  drink,  as  the  mood  suits. 
The  surroundings  are  Oriental  in  their  magnificence,  and 
one  feels  quite  like  a  Maharajah  as  he,  having  finished  his 
bath,  makes  his  exit  into  the  glare  of  the  sun.  I  should 
say,  to  be  accurate  in  my  account,  that  extra  charges  are 
made  for  sheets,  towels,  soap,  birch  brushes,  and  attend- 
ant. And  it  here  occurs  to  me  that  this  is  the  only  in- 
stance in  my  life  where  I  ever  bought  a  rod  for  my  own 
flogging.  The  baths  are  expensive,  but  very  satisfying  and 
comfortable.  The  time  allowed  for  each  bather  to  retain 
a  suite  of  rooms  is  one  hour.  If  he  exceeds  that  time,  he 
is  charged  for  each  additional  quarter  of  an  hour  that  he 
remains.  Of  course,  the  more  expensive  baths  are  patron- 
ized only  by  the  wealthy  among  the  Eussians,  or  by  visit- 
ors who  are  anxious  to  explore  all  there  is  in  the  way  of 
novelty  in  the  ancient  capital.  But,  as  I  have  said,  baths 
of  a  sufficiently  pleasant  and  delightful  character  within 
the  means  of  the  very  poorest  may  always  be  had. 

Herodotus  may  have  been  entirely  right  about  the 
Scythians,  and  no  doubt  he  was,  for  there  are  innumer- 
able proofs  that  he  was  the  most  truthful  and  exact  man 
that  has  ever  written.  I  have  not  been  quite  so  in  saying 
that  the  Eussians  never  wash  their  bodies  in  water.  In 
the  summer  the  young  villager  is  very  fond  of  river  or 
lake  bathing;  and  if  the  village  is  near  a  pool  or  stream, 
half  the  boys  of  the  community  may  be  found  on  the 
banks  or  in  the  water.  The  chances  are  that  the  stream 
is  shallow,  and  not  perfectly  clean,  but  it  suffices  for  all 
the  village  purposes.  The  boys  bathe  here,  leaving  each 


HOW  WE  WASHED  IN  RUSSIA.  189 

his  one  garment  on  the  bank,  plunging  into  the  water, 
or  wading  as  far  in  as  its  depth  renders  feasible.  The  one 
garment  is  a  simple  affair — a  shirt  of  red — very  neglige  as 
to  the  extremities,  but  very  proper  at  the  belt,  being  se- 
curely kept  in  place  by  a  drawstring  of  dirty  tape  or  greasy 
twine.  And  in  all  seasons  this  pool  or  stream  is  the  com- 
mon laundry  of  the  village.  The  Russian  moujik  women 
do  not  wash  clothes  over-often;  but  they  do  sometimes. 
On  that  rare  occasion,  a  family  wash-day,  the  women  of 
the  house  gather  together  everything  in  the  way  of  wash- 
able clothing  they  consider  sufficiently  dirty,  and  carry  it 
to  the  water  side.  Sometimes  the  laundress  tucks  her 
skirts,  etc.,  well  up  above  her  knees  (for  she  and  the 
clothes  are  going  into  the  water  together),  hangs  her  big, 
bulging  bundle  of  things  over  her  shoulder,  and  trudges 
off  on  her  bare,  brown  legs,  singing  to  herself,  and  sing- 
ing sweetly,  as  she  goes.  A  Russian  woman  always  sings 
while  washing.  In  fact,  all  the  Russians  have  a  remarkable 
faculty  for  catching  up  and  improving  upon  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  any  tune  they  hear;  and  they  are  eminently 
a  nation  of  fine  voices.  When  a  dozen  or  more  Russian 
peasant  women  are  washing  together  and  singing,  the 
ensemble  is  as  pleasing  to  the  musical  ear  as  it  is  picturesque 
to  the  eye.  In  the  winter  holes  are  broken  or  hacked  in 
the  ice,  and  on  the  ice  at  the  edges  of  these  holes  the 
women  kneel  and  wash  their  clothes,  plunging  their  hands 
and  arms  into  the  icy  water.  It  must  be  excruciatingly 
cold  work,  yet  still  as  they  wash  they  sing. 

But  the  gilded  youth  of  the  village  do  not  seem  to 
relish  ice-water  plunges.  In  winter — the  long,  cold  win- 
ter— they  patronize  the  steam  baths  exclusively.  The 
steam  bath-house  is  the  Russian's  only  temple  of  ablutions, 
bar  the  earthen  kettle  on  the  porch  of  his  hut.  At  this 
seething  shrine  does  the  moujik  pray  for  cleanliness  and 
perform  his  cleansing  rites. 

Let  us  stroll  through  some  Russian  village  and  glance 
into  the  bath-house.  Ah!  you  are  looking  askance  at  that 
completely  naked  man  who  has  come  out  of  the  nearest 
hut,  and  is  passing  complacently  along.  "  Is  he  mad  ?  " 


190  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

you  ask.  No,  reader,  he  is  not  mad.  He  is  altogether  in 
his  right  mind,  if  not  altogether  clothed  in  his  accus- 
tomed red  shirt.  It  is  you,  if  you  will  pardon  me  for 
saying  so,  who  are  ignorant,  or,  to  express  myself  more 
courteously,  largely  unacquainted  with  the  modus  vivendi 
of  the  Russian  moujik.  Yon  nude,  shock-headed  fellow 
is  Ivan — our  dear  old  friend  Ivan — Ivan  Ivanovitch.  He 
is  going  to  the  village  bath-house.  Put  your  mock  mod- 
esty into  your  pocket,  and  we  will  follow  Ivan,  and  I  will 
gossip  to  you  as  we  go. 

Every  Eussian  peasant,  as  I  have  told  you,  takes  regu- 
larly periodical  vapour  baths.  He  does  it  as  a  matter  of 
health  and  cleanliness.  He  does  it  as  a  luxurious,  sensu- 
ous self-indulgence.  And  he  does  it  as  a  religious  ob- 
servance. As  an  almost  universal  rule,  he  has  his  bath 
once  a  week,  and  usually  on  Saturday;  that  makes  him 
nice  and  clean  and  purified  for  Sunday.  To  the  ortho- 
dox moujik  the  bath  has  a  real  religious  significance,  and 
he  believes  that  it  has  powers  of  moral  as  well  as  of  physi- 
cal purification.  After  certain  pollutions  not  unfrequent 
in  his  mode  of  life,  no  orthodox  peasant  would  think  of 
entering  any  church  or  ikon  shrine  without  first  steaming 
himself  thoroughly.  During  the  period  which  begins 
with  Saturday  afternoon's  bath  and  ends  with  Sunday 
morning's  church  service  he  is  careful  to  keep  himself 
strictly  unpolluted.  Most  villages  have  a  communal  bath- 
house where  all  bathe.  We  are  at  the  door  now — the 
men's  door;  let  us  look  in. 

We  need  not  look  long.  It  is  the  crudest,  roughest, 
barest  place  imaginable.  There  are  three  rooms,  each 
hotter  than  the  other.  Ivan  goes  from  room  to  room,  and 
couches  himself  upon  a  succession  of  hot  and  hotter 
shelves.  The  principle  is  identical  with  that  of  the 
princely  baths  I  have  described.  But  the  surroundings 
are  different!  However,  the  essentials  are  all  there,  and 
Ivan  is  not  a  stickler  for  frippery.  He  wishes  to  roast, 
and  boil,  and  simmer,  and  steam;  and  he  is  enabled  to  do 
it  to  profusion  at  the  village  bath-house.  He  does  it,  going 
quite  as  far  as  he  can  go  and  continue  to  live.  Then  he 


HOW  WE   WASHED  IN  RUSSIA.  191 

goes  into  the  coolest  of  the  seething  rooms,,  dries  himself, 
and  walks  home.  At  least  he  dries  himself — after  a  fash- 
ion— in  summer.  In  winter  he  rushes  out — naked  as  at 
his  birth — and  rolls  and  rolls  in  the  snow,  and  bellows 
with  delight.  The  Scandinavians  who,  like  the  Russians, 
are  devoted  to  steam  baths,  also  love  to  roll  and  toss  in 
the  snow  after  the  bath,  but  they  do  it  more  soberly.  Ivan 
is  in  an  animal  ecstasy  when  he  plunges  his  great  sweating 
self  into  the  cold  and  glittering  snow,  and  he  roars  aloud 
in  his  delirium  of  pleasurable  pain  as  the  snow  bites  and 
stings  him. 

There  are  parts  of  Russia  where  the  people  do  not  bathe 
en  masse.  Each  "  soul "  or  woman  takes  his  or  her  vapour 
bath  at  home,  where  there  is  neither  bath-room  nor  tub 
or  vessel  for  the  bath.  What  do  you  suppose  they  use? 
You  give  it  up?  That's  wise,  for  you  would  never  guess. 
They  use  the  oven — the  family  oven — the  oven  in  which 
their  daily  bread  is  baked!  On  my  word,  they  do.  They 
get  into  it,  roast  in  it,  sweat  in  it — but  need  I  go  more 
into  detail?  I  think  not. 

I  have  said  that  the  moujik  boys  never  break  the  ice 
in  their  anxiety  for  out-of-door  baths,  nor  do  they  bathe 
outdoors  in  winter.  But,  strangely  enough,  there  are  some 
people  who  do — a  certain  class  of  penitents. 

In  many  Russian  villages  it  is  customary  for  the  peas- 
ants at  certain  seasons,  and  upon  certain  gala  days,  to 
array  themselves  in  strange  and  fantastic  disguises,  very 
much  as  Roman  merry-makers  do  at  carnival  times.  In 
both  instances  it  is,  of  course,  a  survival  of  an  old  pagan 
custom.  Rome,  the  wise,  the  liberal,  the  broad-minded — 
for  Rome  is  all  these — sanctions,  or  at  least  does  not  cen- 
sure, the  paganlike  masquerade  of  the  rollicking,  carni- 
val-keeping Italians.  But  the  Russian  Church  is  a  jealous 
church,  and  says  to  her  children,  "  Ye  shall  have  no 
other  customs  than  mine."  The  Russian  peasant  who 
makes  holiday  in  some  sort  of  a  heathenish  guise  feels 
that  he  has  pandered  somewhat  to  Satan,  and  given  that 
evil  one  a  mortgage  on  his  future  life.  To  rectify  this, 
the  orthodox  moujik  does  penance,  and  in  a  way  that  can 


192  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

but  remind  us  of  the  penitential  performances  of  a  devout 
Hindoo  who  has  broken  his  caste.  In  Russia  you  are  re- 
minded hourly  of  the  Orient.  Above  all,  you  are  re- 
minded of  China.  But  to  our  penitent  Ivan  who  has  worn 
sinful  raiment:  how  does  Ivan  cleanse  himself,  how  re- 
gain his  orthodox  caste?  Listen. 

There  is  a  peculiarly  interesting  and  picturesque  Rus- 
sian religious  ceremonial  called  "  The  Blessing  of  the 
Waters."  It  takes  place  in  winter.  A  hole  is  made  in  the 
ice,  and  to  the  accompaniment  of  prayer  and  sacred  song 
a  cross  is  plunged  into  the  water.  As  soon  as  the  religious 
rite  is  concluded,  Ivan  plunges  in,  and  as  nearly  as  possible 
where  the  cross  was  submerged.  Incredible  as  it  may 
seem,  I  never  heard  of  this  icy  penance  killing  Ivan;  and 
he  has  the  happy  assurance  that  his  faithful  mind  and 
his  devout  body  are  purged  from  the  uncleanness  they  had 
absorbed  from  his  indiscreet  wearing  of  heathenlike  gar- 
ments. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  GALA  PERFORMANCE  AND  THE  RUSSIAN"  STAGE. 

THE  theatre,  among  other  public  institutions,  was  also 
honoured  during  the  coronation  of  the  Tsar.  I  did  not 
suppose  that  with  all  the  other  enormous  functions  on 
their  hands,  with  all  the  infinite  weariness  of  reiterated 
ceremonial  to  which  the  Tsar  and  his  courtiers  were  sub- 
jected, he  would  have  chosen  this  occasion  for  going  to  the 
theatre  solely  for  amusement  or  recreation.  No.  In  Rus- 
sia the  stage  is  greatly  honoured  and  warmly  supported 
by  the  nobility  and  by  the  throne;  and  an  occasion  such 
as  the  crowning  of  a  Tsar  could  not  be  allowed  to  pass 
without  setting  the  imperial  seal  of  approval  upon  an  in- 
stitution that  in  every  country  does  so  much  to  alleviate 
the  cares  and  dissipate  the  anxieties  of  mankind.  I  was 
glad  to  find  that  Russia  delights  to  honour  her  artists  of 
merit,  and  that  the  theatre  was  not  forgotten  upon  this 
great  occasion  of  national  rejoicing. 

When  we  drove  up  to  the  entrance  of  the  opera  house 
on  the  evening  set  apart  for  the  great  gala  performance, 
it  was  a  blaze  of  light  and  beauty.  Over  the  great  porch, 
which  is  surmounted  by  a  magnificent  group  of  statuary,  was 
an  enormous  illumination  which  threw  the  mythological 
figures  out  in  bold  relief,  and  made  them  assume  even 
greater  proportions  than  they  usually  bear.  All  round 
the  cornice  a  perfect  embroidery  of  lights  brought  into 
delicate  and  exquisitely  beautiful  contrast  the  architec- 
tural features  of  the  imposing  building.  Over  the  main 
entrance  a  canopy  of  gold  and  scarlet,  mingled  with  the 
national  colours,  made  a  passage  worthy  of  an  Emperor. 


194:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Of  course,  all  the  paths  leading  into  the  various  entrances 
were  covered  with  the  colour  of  royalty;  and  there  were 
hosts  of  soldiers  in  brilliant  uniforms,  and  attaches  of  the 
opera  house,  wearing  the  imperial  household  livery,  wait- 
ing to  receive  the  resplendent  company  which  was  pres- 
ently to  fill  the  theatre  and  make  it  seem  something  more 
than  a  scene  from  this  commonplace  world  of  ours.  I 
thought  I  had  seen  as  much  in  the  way  of  magnificent 
spectacle  during  the  different  ceremonies  as  even  Eussia 
could  display;  but  I  am  forced  to  confess  that,  consid- 
ered as  a  gorgeous  display  of  wealth  and  beauty,  of  variety 
in  design,  of  wild  revelry  in  colour,  of  jewels  of  untold 
value,  the  gala  performance  was  simply  beyond  any  ordi- 
nary creation  of  an  intoxicated  imagination. 

Of  course,  such  gatherings  always  are  more  effective  in  a 
brilliantly-lighted  theatre  than  they  are  when  viewed  by  the 
cold  and  severe  light  of  day.  Then,  too,  the  opera  house 
itself  was  no  mean  part  of  the  spectacle.  Its  interior  was 
gorgeous  in  gold  and  scarlet.  Beautiful  designs  enriched 
the  walls,  and  the  boxes  were  draped  in  brocades  and  vel- 
vets, every  line  of  which  was  accentuated  by  threads  of 
gold.  The  great  chandelier  which  hung  from  the  centre 
of  the  ceiling,  and  the  innumerable  lights  which  were  held 
aloft  by  dainty  golden  figures  standing  out  from  the  side 
walls,  illuminated  the  scene  so  that  not  a  single  feature 
was  obscured.  As  deep  answereth  to  deep,  so  upon  that 
night  from  every  part  of  the  large  theatre  did  jewel  answer 
to  jewel,  and  the  face  of  flashing  beauty  respond  from  one 
box  to  beauty  quite  as  great  in  another.  I  enjoyed  the  very 
great  privilege  of  occupying  a  box  near  the  proscenium, 
from  which  I  was  enabled  to  look  down  upon  the  scene 
in  the  parquet  or  orchestra  stalls,  and  also  to  every  corner 
of  the  immense  house.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
when  the  audience  had  gathered  and  the  seats  were  filled, 
the  scene  was  one  of  such  splendour  that  it  is  hopeless  to  at- 
tempt to  describe  it  adequately.  The  imperial  box  was  in 
the  centre  of  the  first  tier.  It  was  a  very  large  affair;  be- 
sides the  Emperor  and  Empress,  there  were  seated  and 
standing  in  this  box  a  number  of  royal  guests.  The  Tsar, 


••••••I 


GALA  PERFORMANCE  AND  RUSSIAN  STAGE.     195 

accompanied  by  the  Tsaritsa,  arrived  at  half-past  eight. 
And  such  a  welcome  as  they  received!  Perhaps  the  theatre, 
with  its  resounding  walls,  echoing  and  re-echoing  the 
great  shouts  which  went  up,  served  to  augment  the  en- 
thusiasm and  make  it  seem  even  greater  than  it  was. 
But  be  that  as  it  may,  the  welcome  which  the  imperial 
couple  received  was  as  warm  as  one  could  wish,  and  they 
seemed  to  be  deeply  moved  and  to  appreciate  greatly  the 
wonderful  greeting.  They  stood  and  bowed  for  several 
seconds;  and  as  they  bowed,  the  shouts  gathered  re- 
newed force.  The  Tsaritsa,  looking  as  beautiful  as  ever, 
was  dressed  in  white,  and  wore  her  wonderful  pearls  and 
a  coronet  of  diamonds.  She  was  evidently  the  object  of 
the  most  loyal  and  hearty  interest  on  the  part  of  all  present. 

And  now  the  audience  was  seated.  The  lower  floor 
upon  which  I  looked  down  was  a  mass  of  colour  and  sparkle 
and  gold,  for  it  was  filled  with  officers — men  of  the  highest 
rank,  distinction,  and  achievement  in  their  various  serv- 
ices; and  every  one  of  them  was  clad  in  his  most  sumptuous 
uniform,  glistening  with  orders,  the  gorgeous  variety  of 
colours  brightened  by  the  ever-recurring  gold.  It  was 
a  scene  I  shall  never  forget,  and  the  like  of  which  I  had 
never  seen  before,  and  probably  shall  not  look  upon  again. 
And  in  the  boxes  the  beauty  of  the  fair  wearers  of  royal 
and  imperial  raiment  must  have  been  great  indeed  to 
stand  the  wonderful  frame  in  which  it  was  set;  but  it  did 
stand  it,  and  triumphed  over  it,  for  here  were  gathered 
women  as  beautiful  as  any  in  Europe. 

Back  of  the  Emperor's  box  was  an  immense  drawing- 
room  for  the  imperial  party.  At  both  sides  of  the  imperial 
box  were  boxes  filled  with  princes  and  grand  dukes  in  all 
their  gala  dress,  making  a  rich  setting  for  the  main  figures 
in  the  centre;  for  of  the  eminent  persons  there,  only 
those  highest  in  rank  were  furnished  with  seats  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  Tsar. 

As  the  imperial  party  entered  and  left  the  theatre, 
every  one  present  rose,  and  remained  standing,  in  the  first 
case  until  they  had  taken  their  seats,  and  in  the  other 
until  they  were  out  of  the  theatre. 


196  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

The  stage  performance  would  have  to  be  wonderful 
indeed  to  outshine  the  spectacle  before  the  footlights. 
And  it  was  so.  Indeed,  it  was  difficult  at  the  close  of  the 
evening  to  say  which  provided  the  most  glorious  sight, 
the  theatrical  spectacle  behind  the  footlights,  with  all 
its  wealth  of  tinsel  and  its  vari-coloured  lights,  bringing 
out  each  feature  and  enriching  it  a  hundredfold,  or  the 
company  of  royalties  gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
as  an  audience.  I  could  but  think  of  the  boast  which 
Napoleon  made  to  one  of  his  favourite  actors,  when  en- 
couraging him  to  do  his  best  at  a  gala  performance  which 
he  gave  at  Dresden:  "I  will  fill  the  parquet  for  you  with 
an  audience  of  kings! "  But  the  stage  was  true  to  its 
richest  if  not  its  highest  traditions  upon  this  occasion. 
Of  course,  one  would  scarcely  have  looked  for  anything 
heavy  for  a  performance  of  this  description,  and  if  he  had, 
he  would  have  been  disappointed.  It  was  not  a  play  of 
Shakespeare,  nor  a  problem  play  of  the  modern  school, 
which  we  were  invited  to  attend  upon  this  memorable 
night.  Indeed,  I  think  anything  of  that  sort  would  have 
been  wearying  to  the  audience  present,  for  every  one  there 
was  seething  with  excitement,  and  it  was  no  occasion  upon 
which  to  regret  the  woes  of  Hamlet  or  sigh  over  the  mis- 
fortunes of  a  second  Mrs.  Tanqueray.  It  was  joyful  Rus- 
sia which  was  present;  and  therefore  the  performance 
was  very  properly  of  a  kind  fitted  to  merrymaking  and 
revelry. 

First  came  the  national  opera,  A  Life  for  the  Tsar. 
The  music  was,  of  course,  of  a  highly  patriotic  character; 
and  the  scenes  such  as  were  calculated  to  harmonize  with 
the  feelings  of  those  present  who  had  been  assisting  in  one 
way  and  another  at  a  veritable  coronation.  The  stage 
pictures  presented  in  this  work  were  delightfully  true 
to  the  Eussia  which  I  had  been  so  sedulously  studying 
for  several  weeks.  Groups  of  Russians  of  all  degrees,  in  the 
costumes  of  peasant,  and  merchant,  and  prince,  were  seen 
gathered  in  some  familiar  street,  thanking  Heaven  with 
devout  mien  for  their  new  Tsar,  and  presently  throwing  their 
caps  aloft,  and  breaking  into  cheers  which  seemed  too 


GALA  PERFORMANCE  AND  RUSSIAN  STAGE.     197 

real  to  be  of  the  stage,  stagey.  Another  group  was  seen 
outside  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Basil,  which  was  represented 
in  all  its  Oriental  and  bewildering  confusion  of  architecture 
and  colour.  No  one  who  has  not  seen  the  rich  and  varied 
use  of  colour  employed  by  all  classes  in  Eussia  can  imagine 
to  just  what  extremes  the  arrangement  of  colours  in 
this  picture  was  carried.  Yellow  and  scarlet,  green  and 
blue  and  gold  and  purple,  white  and  maroon  and  pink, 
and  silver  and  gold  were  mingled  in  a  maze  of  inex- 
tricable but  always  admirable  confusion.  And  then  the 
lights!  Everything  that  could  be  done  with  lime  light 
and  calcium  and  electric  light  to  enrich  and  ennoble  a 
stage  spectacle  was  done.  The  effect  can  be  imagined. 
It  was  a  show  worthy  of  the  audience  which  was  gathered 
to  witness  it.  From  a  spectacular  point  of  view  I  could 
not  possibly  give  it  higher  praise. 

And  after  this  the  ballet.  This  was,  of  course,  in  many 
respects  similar  to  all  other  ballets;  but  I  have  never 
seen,  even  at  the  Empire  in  London,  or  at  any  of  our  best 
houses  in  America,  anything  which  equalled  that  which 
had  upon  this  occasion  been  prepared  for  the  Tsar  and  his 
guests.  The  theme  was  the  Birth  of  Light.  Light  was 
represented  as  buried  in  ocean  depths  in  the  person  of  the 
pearl,  to  be  rescued  and  brought  to  earth  by  the  forces 
of  Good,  and  to  be  restrained  and  kept  in  darkness,  if  pos- 
sible, by  the  powers  of  Evil. 

The  reader  can  easily  imagine  what  a  successful  stage 
manager  could  make  of  such  a  theme  in  the  way  of  brilliant 
stage  pictures.  Knights  clad  in  gleaming  armour  of  coral 
and  richly  coloured  shells  and  anemone  fought  for  mer- 
maids whose  fairy  forms  were  resplendent  with  the  soft 
light  of  opals  and  shimmering  pearls.  Mammoth  green 
sea  monsters,  with  naming  eyes  of  scarlet,  crept  about 
and  in  and  out  of  gigantic  shells,  and  the  scene  went  on 
from  struggle  to  struggle,  Light  and  the  Truth  always  com- 
ing nearer  to  the  surface,  and  the  powers  of  Evil  receding 
into  their  native  darkness.  And  through  it  all  the  best 
dancers  in  the  world,  who  had  been  specially  brought  to 
Moscow  for  the  occasion,  threaded  their  sinuous  and  gra- 


198  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

cious  way  to  music  as  soft  and  sensuous  as  ever  wooed  a 
maiden  or  told  the  love  of  a  suffering  swain. 

The  scene  was  altogether  too  costly  to  make  it  possible 
for  an  ordinary  management  to  give  anything  like  it  as 
part  of  a  regular  performance.  I  thpught  the  combina- 
tion of  performance  and  ballet  most  happy.  The  crown- 
ing of  the  Tsar  gave  expression  to  what  every  one  present 
was  feeling:  enthusiasm  over  and  happy  wishes  for  the 
young  couple  who  sat  together  in  the  midst  of  the  brilliant 
throng;  the  Triumph  of  Light  over  Darkness  provided 
a  theme  for  happy  augury  for  the  reign  just  commencing; 
for  who  would  not  say,,  as  he  witnessed  the  final  triumph 
of  Light  in  the  mimic  show  of  the  stage,  "  So  may  Light 
triumph,  now  and  always,  through  the  reign  of  the  new 
Tsar! " 

Between  the  acts  there  was  a  sumptuous  collation  served 
in  the  corridors  of  the  opera  house,  including  the  omni- 
present champagne — for  champagne  is  omnipresent  in 
Kussia — to  all  of  which  the  guests  of  the  evening  were 
royally  welcome;  and  every  one  was  a  guest,  for  this  entire 
performance  was  provided  by  the  Ceremonies  Committee. 

In  many  ways  I  was  even  more  interested  in  the  sev- 
eral minor  and  altogether  ordinary  theatrical  performances 
that  I  witnessed  while  in  Eussia  than  I  was  in  the  great 
gala  performance  of  the  coronation  celebration.  It  was 
sumptuous  beyond  words.  It  o'ertopped  all  the  perform- 
ances of  my  most  excited  and  most  inspired  imaginings. 
But  for  all  that,  and  for  all  its  intense  loyalty,  it  was  a 
cosmopolitan  show — it  was  Eussian  in  its  splendour,  it  was 
Eussian  in  its  daring,  it  was  Eussian  in  its  contemptuous 
disregard  of  expense  or  trouble;  but,  in  spite  of  all  that, 
it  was  on  cosmopolitan  lines.  The  stage  markets,  the 
scene  ateliers  of  the  world,  had  been  ransacked  for  the 
elaboration  and  the  perfection  of  its  ensemble.  The  per- 
formance was  cosmopolitan  and  the  audience  was  cosmo- 
politan. The  former,  not  because  premieres  of  many 
nations  danced  out  its  brief  but  maddeningly  beautiful 
life,  but  because  it  was  the  concentration  of  all  that  many 
nations  have  achieved  in  theatrical  and  spectacular  art. 


GALA  PERFORMANCE  AND  RUSSIAN  STAGE.     199 

The  audience  was  cosmopolitan,  not  because  of  the  in- 
cidental presence  of  guests  from  many  nations,  but  because 
the  rich  and  the  travelled  are  cosmopolitan  at  the  core, 
citizens  of  the  world  the  earth  over.  The  men  of  some 
nations  are  far  slower  to  come  out  of  their  national  shell 
than  are  the  men  of  others,  but  they  do  come  out  all  of 
them,  if  they  are  rich  and  if  they  travel. 

The  coronation  ceremonies  interested  me  and  delighted 
me  immensely;  but  Eussia  interested  me  far  more  in- 
tensely; and  so  it  was  that  the  peep  shows  and  the  side 
shows,  the  ridiculous  melodramas,  the  garish  plays,  and 
the  indescribable  ballets  of  gape-a-mouth  Ivan  Ivanovitch 
(shows  and  performances  that  I  paid  my  honest  kopecks 
to  witness,  and  watched  sitting  beside  Ivan  upon  a  bench 
of  paintless  wood)  interested  me  more,  and  gave  me  far 
more  to  remember  and  ponder  over  than  did  the  supreme, 
sublime  gala  performance  of  the  newly  crowned  Tsar  of 
all  the  Russias,  Nicholas  Alexandrovitch. 

Tell  you  about  those  Russian  people's  plays — about 
the  truly  Slavic  drama  and  about  the  Russian  actors? 
"No,  I  can  not;  the  theme  is  too  big,  and  I  am  too  con- 
vinced of  its  greatness  even  to  attempt  to  deal  with  it  in 
the  meagre  space  at  my  disposal. 


14 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   CITY   OF   THE   FIRST   MODERN   TSAR. 

I  LEFT  Moscow  finally  on  the  evening  of  June  7th. 
To  say  that  I  was  surfeited  with  my  stay  in  the  most 
sacred  of  Russian  cities  would  be  untrue.  I  was,  how- 
ever, quite  satisfied.  Like  one  who  has  sat  long  at  a 
sumptuous  banquet,  and  has  eaten  and  drunk  all  that  he 
requires,  and  is  then  glad  to  go  out  into  the  fresh  air,  so 
was  I  glad  to  get  away  from  the  atmosphere  of  ceremony 
and  festival  back  into  the  ordinary  affairs  of  everyday 
life,  and  to  reflect  upon  all  the  wonders  I  had  seen  and 
all  the  rejoicings  in  which  I  had  participated.  The  ride 
to  St.  Petersburg  is  one  of  slightly  over  thirteen  hours. 
We  left  Moscow  at  10.30  P.  M.  on  Sunday  night  and  arrived 
in  the  capital  of  Peter  the  Great  at  12  A.  M.  the  next 
day.  There  is  nothing  to  be  added  to  my  impressions 
already  recorded  of  Russian  railway  travel.  It  is  slow 
but  comfortable;  and  after  one  has  so  far  become  Oriental- 
ized as  to  be  largely  indifferent  to  the  passage  of  time, 
the  slowness  is  regarded  with  indifference. 

St.  Petersburg  is  the  exact  antithesis  of  Moscow.  The 
latter  is  ancient,  picturesque,  and  irregular;  the  former 
is  modern,  commonplace,  and  regular.  It  is  like  Chicago 
built  on  a  plain;  its  streets  are  laid  out  on  the  rectangular 
plan  so  familiar  to  the  cities  of  a  new  country,  and  it  bears 
marks  on  every  hand  of  being  what  it  is — a  city  made  to 
order.  It  is  built  along  the  Neva,  has  many  splendid  build- 
ings, and  presents  some  delightful  spots  for  parks  and 
drives;  but  the  quaintness,  the  antiquity,  and  the  ecclesi- 

200 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  FIRST  MODERN  TSAR.       201 

asticism  of  the  Holy  City  are  all  absent  from  the  Capital 
of  the  North. 

We  staid  while  in  St.  Petersburg  at  the  Hotel  de  France, 
a  thoroughly  modern  and  comfortable  hotel,  and  one  con- 
veniently situated  to  all  those  points  of  interest  which  the 
traveller  usually  visits.  We  spent  eight  days  in  this  hotel, 
and  have  only  the  pleasantest  recollections  of  its  comfort 
and  cleanliness.  St.  Petersburg  is  like  a  city  built  upon 
an  enormous  float.  It  is  perfectly  flat,  and  occupies  several 
islands  formed  by  the  delta  of  the  Neva,  together  with  the 
mainland  lying  several  miles  along  the  left  bank  of  that 
river.  The  nature  of  the  ground  upon  which  the  city  is 
built  necessitated  the  erection  of  many  of  the  buildings 
on  foundations  of  piles,  and  the  difficulties  which  must 
have  been  encountered  in  conquering  the  sea  in  order  to 
lay  these  foundations  presented  a  task  to  the  founder  of 
the  city  which  only  such  a  daring  and  restless  tempera- 
ment and  determination  of  will  as  his  would  have  sought 
to  accomplish.  The  best  view  of  St.  Petersburg  is  obtained 
from  the  dome  of  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Isaac.  From  this 
point  the  city  is  spread  out  in  simple  and  panoramic  dis- 
play before  the  eye.  By  a  half-hour's  study  of  it,  the 
stranger  is  able  to  master  its  main  divisions  and  locate  its 
principal  objects  of  interest.  The  Neva  in  summer  pre- 
sents a  very  bright  and  lively  appearance.  It  is  alive  with 
passenger  steamers — very  similar  to  those  in  use  on  the 
Seine — pleasure  boats,  yachts,  and  other  craft.  On  a  clear 
day  its  waters  reflect  the  palatial  buildings  which  line  its 
banks.  Peter  built  his  capital  upon  the  water  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  cultivating  a  fondness  for  that  water  in 
his  people. 

The  great  Tsar's  relations  to  the  sea  are  among  the 
most  interesting  of  his  highly  diversified  life.  He  had 
been  frightened  when  a  child  of  five  years  by  the  unex- 
pected sound  of  a  cascade,  and  for  years  afterward  the 
sight  of  water  sent  him  into  the  cataleptic  fits  from 
which,  like  several  of  his  ancestors,  he  suffered.  He  not 
only  overcame  this  fear  of  the  water  by  constantly  accus- 
toming himself  to  it,  but  developed  such  a  fondness  for 


202  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

the  sea  that  he  built  St.  Petersburg  literally  upon  it,  and 
"  without  bridges,  that  our  people  may  be  constantly  on 
the  waters  of  the  Neva — crossing  and  recrossing."  The  one 
predominating  personality  in  St.  Petersburg  is  that  of  its 
founder.  It  attacks  one  on  every  side.  Just  as  in  Paris 
to-day  one  can  not  escape  the  omnipresence  of  Napoleon,, 
so  in  St.  Petersburg  one  can  not  escape  from  the  mighty 
personality  of  Peter.  Speaking  of  the  semi-barbaric  and 
Oriental  atmosphere  in  which  Peter  was  born  and  reared, 
Dean  Stanley  says,  in  a  passage  of  great  strength:  "  What 
must  the  man  have  been  who,  born  and  bred  in  this  at- 
mosphere, conceived  and  by  one  tremendous  wrench, 
almost  by  his  own  manual  labour  and  his  own  sole  gigantic 
strength,  executed  the  prodigious  idea  of  dragging  the 
nation,  against  its  will,  into  the  light  of  Europe,  and 
erecting  a  new  capital  and  a  new  empire  among  the  cities 
and  the  kingdoms  of  the  world.  St.  Petersburg  is,  in- 
deed, his  most  enduring  monument.  A  spot  up  to  that 
time  without  a  single  association,  selected  instead  of  the 
Holy  City  to  which  even  now  every  Eussian  turns  as  to  his 
mother;  a  site  which  but  a  few  years  before  had  belonged 
to  his  most  inveterate  enemies,  won  from  morass  and 
forest,  with  difficulty  defended,  and  perhaps  even  yet 
doomed  to  fall  before  the  inundations  of  its  own  river; 
and  now,  though  still  Asiatic  beyond  any  city  of  the  West, 
yet  in  grandeur  and  magnificence,  in  the  total  subjugation 
of  nature  to  art,  entirely  European." 

It  was  with  such  thoughts  as  these  teeming  in  my 
mind  that  I  started  for  my  first  drive  in  St.  Petersburg 
with  my  friend  Soustchevsky.  I  soon  found  that  Peter's 
idea  of  a  bridgeless  Neva  had  been  abandoned.  The  river 
is  now  spanned  by  four  bridges,  three  of  which  are  floating 
bridges,  removed  in  winter  to  avoid  the  ice,  and  one, 
the  Nicholas  Bridge,  on  massive  granite  piers,  which,  of 
course,  stands  permanently.  We  crossed  the  river  by  the 
Troitski  floating  bridge,  which  spans  it  near  the  fortress 
of  Saints  Peter  and  Paul,  between  that  fortress  and  the 
Champ  de  Mars.  I  had  first  noticed  the  fortress  from 
the  balcony  of  the  English  Club  on  the  other  side  of  the 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  FIRST  MODERN  TSAR.       203 

river,  and  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  take  a  nearer 
view  of  a  building  so  full  of  suggestions  of  the  Great 
Tsar.  The  fortress  itself  is  far  from  imposing  viewed 
from  a  distance.  It  is  a  long,  low,  red-brick  building, 
somewhat  mellowed  in  appearance  by  age,  and  presenting 
as  its  most  notable  feature  the  tall  spire  of  the  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  within.  The  garrison  in 
the  fort  is  maintained  for  guard  purposes;  but  the  military 
strength  of  the  fortress  would  be  absolutely  nil  against 
a  few  rounds  from  a  modern  warship.  I  shall  not  go 
into  a  weary  description  of  the  churches  of  St.  Petersburg; 
but  it  is  perhaps  worth  remarking  that  this  cathedral  spire 
rises  to  a  height  of  three  hundred  and  two  feet.  To  me 
the  objects  of  real  and  vital  interest  were  the  cottage  in 
which  Peter  lived  while  he  was  supervising  the  building  of 
the  city,  and  the  boat  in  which  he  first  learned  to  sail.  It 
is  called  the  "  Grandsire,"  as  from  his  fondness  for  sail- 
ing engendered  by  his  aquatic  amusements  in  this  boat 
Peter's  enthusiasm  for  the  sea  was  begotten,  and  so  his 
determination  to  create  a  navy  for  Eussia,  and  to  intro- 
duce her  to  the  circle  of  European  nations.  The  boat 
is  kept  in  exactly  the  condition  in  which  he  used  it,  and  so 
is  the  cottage  in  which  he  lived,  which  stands  a  short 
distance  to  the  right  of  the  fortress.  One  of  the  rooms — 
his  bedroom — is  now  used  for  a  dining-room.  In  front 
of  the  cottage  stands  his  bust,  and  the  grounds  about  the 
cottage  are  prettily  arranged,  though  somewhat  contracted. 
This  was  the  first  house  built  in  St.  Petersburg,  its  foun- 
dations being  laid  in  1703.  Our  drive  continued  along 
a  road  which  passes  through  a  district  of  comparatively 
poorer  residences,  leaves  the  barracks  on  the  right,  and 
finally  reaches  the  fine  suburban  locality  so  much  affected 
by  the  elite  of  the  city  for  their  evening  drives  and  walks. 
"  The  islands  of  the  Neva,"  of  which  there  are  half  a  dozen 
larger  and  several  smaller  ones,  are  all  beautifully  situated. 
The  breeze  from  the  Gulf  of  Finland  sweeps  across  them 
and  thus  keeps  them  cool  upon  the  hottest  day  of  sum- 
mer. The  pretty  summer  homes  of  the  better  class  of 
citizens,  surrounded  by  trees  and  flowers,  with  their  gar- 


204  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

dens  running  down  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  which  is  here 
clear  and  peaceful,  form  a  picture  of  arcadian  beauty. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  the  fashion  and  wealth  of  the  city 
may  be  seen  driving  or  walking  among  these  islands,  and 
one  of  them,  which  projects  far  out  into  the  gulf,  cor- 
responds very  closely  to  the  promenade  in  Hyde  Park — 
the  people  leaving  their  carriages  here  to  enjoy  a  stroll 
and  a  chat.  I  should  say  that  the  different  islands  which 
make  up  this  eligible  group  are  connected  by  bridges,  and 
one  can  either  walk  or  drive  freely  from  one  to  the  other. 
Having  made  the  round  of  the  islands,  we  drove  back  to 
the  English  Club,  where  we  dined.  This  is  called  the 
English  Club  because  Peter  the  Great  founded  it  upon 
his  return  from  his  sojourn  in  England,  and  incorporated 
in  it  the  ideas  he  had  gathered  during  his  residence  in 
London.  For  aught  I  know,  there  is  not  a  single  member 
of  English  nationality  in  the  club,  unless  it  be  an  honor- 
ary one.  The  club  is  in  the  best  quarter  of  the  city,  and 
stands  on  the  bank  of  the  Neva,  near  the  Winter  Palace, 
the  Admiralty,  etc.  It  is  a  very  delightful  and  sumptuous 
lounging  place  for  the  better  class  of  Eussians.  Sitting 
on  its  balcony  after  dinner,  and  looking  across  at  the 
fortress,  and  to  the  left  where  Basil  Island  presents  many 
of  the  finest  public  buildings  in  the  city,  the  scene  is  a 
very  fine  and  imposing  one.  The  club  itself  contains 
every  comfort.  Its  reading-room  has  the  latest  and  best 
of  European  literature  on  file.  Its  billiard-rooms  are  well 
arranged  and  lighted,  the  tables  being  the  large  ones  used 
in  the  English  game,  which  to  an  American  player  at  first 
are  so  difficult.  There  are  no  accommodations  in  this  or 
other  Eussian  clubs  for  the  residence  of  members.  The 
dinner  to  which  we  sat  down  was  on  the  table  d'hote  plan. 
It  was  excellent,  too,  and  the  Zakuska  which  preceded 
it  was  served  in  a  different  room.  We  dined  at  large 
tables,  two  or  three,  I  forget  which,  about  which  the  mem- 
bers sat  quite  en  famille.  I  liked  this  feature.  It  pro- 
moted sociability  in  the  club  and  turned  the  dinner  from  a 
solemn  function  into  an  occasion  of  mirth  and  jollity. 
It  was  after  dinner,  while  enjoying  a  cup  of  coffee 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  FIRST  MODERN  TSAR.       205 

and  a  cigarette  upon  the  balcony  of  the  club,  that  I  had 
a  very  good  opportunity  to  see  the  beauties  which  the  Neva 
presents.  As  one  looks  down  the  river,  the  scene  pre- 
sented by  the  Exchange,  the  University  buildings,  the 
Academy  of  Arts,  the  Corps  de  Cadets,  and  the  Academy 
of  Sciences,  surrounded  as  they  are  by  well-kept  sward 
and  beautiful  flower  beds,  is  peculiarly  pleasing.  The 
stately  Exchange  building  stands  on  the  point  of  the  island 
nearest  the  club.  It  is  of  white  marble,  and  great  flights 
of  steps  lead  down  from  it  to  the  water's  edge.  On  each  side 
of  it,  and  in  front,  are  two  immense  columns  surmounted 
by  figures  of  Atalanta  bearing  urns  in  which  fires  are 
sometimes  lighted.  Beyond  this  and  farther  down  the 
river  is  the  St.  Petersburg  Yacht  Club,  which  is  an  excel- 
lently equipped  and  very  popular  organization.  It  sup- 
plies its  members  with  rowboats,  sailing  craft  of  nearly 
every  description  devoted  to  pleasure,  and  has  several  fine 
steam  yachts,  which  are  at  the  disposal  of  members  for 
trips  on  the  Gulf.  On  a  summer's  evening,  as  one  sits  on 
the  balcony  of  the  English  Club,  or  strolls  upon  the  quay, 
or  listens  to  the  band  in  the  garden  of  the  Summer  Palace, 
the  pleasure  craft,  prettily  decorated  launches  from  the 
Admiralty,  and  the  swift-moving  passenger  boats,  backed 
by  the  splendid  buildings  and  gilded  spires  of  the  churches, 
form  a  most  beautiful  picture  indeed,  and  one  which  is 
turned  to  again  and  again  with  pleasure.  St.  Petersburg  has 
its  trams,  electric  lights,  and  busy  thoroughfares. 

The  Nevsky  Prospect,  which  runs  in  a  straight  line  from 
the  river  to  the  Moscow  Railway  Station  several  miles  away, 
is  one  of  the  most  attractive  streets  to  be  found  in  any 
city.  I  shall  not  dwell,  however,  upon  the  various  "  show  " 
sights  of  St.  Petersburg,  for  not  only  would  this  carry 
me  too  far,  but  my  primary  object,  which  was  to  convey 
a  fair  impression  of  the  coronation  of  the  Tsar,  is  accom- 
plished. I  can  not,  however,  close  my  brief  record  of  my 
stay  in  St.  Petersburg  without  mentioning  a  most  de-' 
lightful  trip  which  we  made  to  Cronstadt  in  company 
with  Mr.  Greger,  the  former  Charge  d?  Affaires  of  the 
Russian  Government  in  America,  and  his  beautiful  wife. 


206  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

The  party  consisted  of  our  hosts,  Madame  Schege,  Paul 
Schege,  my  mother,  the  Misses  Koon,  Mr.  Nobokoff,  a  gen- 
tleman of  the  Chamber  of  the  Imperial  Court,  G.,  and  myself. 
Mr.  Greger  had  secured  a  most  comfortable  steam  yacht 
from  the  St.  Petersburg  Yacht  Club,  and  in  this  we  made 
the  journey,  in  a  very  independent  and  charming  manner, 
to  the  great  naval  station  of  the  northern  capital.  The 
distance  to  Cronstadt  is  about  seven  miles,  but  the  navi- 
gation is  difficult,  and  our  run  down  took  long  enough 
for  us  to  do  full  justice  to  a  most  excellent  lunch  which 
had  been  provided  by  our  hospitable  hosts.  We  drank 
the  health  of  Tsar,  Tsaritsa,  and  of  dear  old  far-away 
America  in  some  excellent  champagne;  and  presently 
descried  in  the  offing  a  boat  from  the  Minneapolis, 
which  was  then  at  Cronstadt  in  dry  dock  undergoing  re- 
pairs. The  young  officer  in  charge  hailed  us  and  we 
found  that  he  had  been  sent  out  to  welcome  us  back  to 
United  States  territory,  aboard  the  warship.  It  did  not 
take  us  long  to  transfer  ourselves  to  the  ship's  boat,  and 
once  aboard,  we  soon  made  our  way  through  one  of  the 
tunnel-shaped  canals  which  led  from  the  roadway  to  the 
interior  of  the  docks.  As  I  have  said,  the  ship  was  in 
dock;  but  aboard  she  was  as  "  right  as  rain,"  and  we  were 
welcomed  to  her  deck  with  musical  honours,  the  band 
playing  "  Yankee  Doodle "  as  we  came  over  the  ship's 
side.  Never,  perhaps,  does  a  patriotic  strain  sound  more 
welcome  than  in  a  foreign  land,  when  one  has  for  a  long 
time  been  absent  from  home.  It  is  then  that  one's  sup- 
posed indifference  is  put  to  flight;  the  old  familiar  air 
brings  back  memories  of  faces,  of  hard-fought  battles,  of 
many  a  hero's  self-sacrifice,  and  all  of  a  sudden  there  is 
a  mist  across  the  eyes  and  a  lump  in  one's  throat  that  tells 
him  that  after  all  he  is  a  pretty  enthusiastic  American. 
So  it  was  with  us  as  we  heard  the  old  tune  from  the  band 
of  the  Minneapolis. 

We  were  welcomed  to  that  bit  of  "home"  most  cor- 
dially by  Captain  Wadley,  Commodore  Gheen,  and  the 
other  officers  of  the  ship;  and  after  a  good  look  round 
the  cruiser  we  adjourned  to  the  wardroom  and  pledged 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  FIRST  MODERN  TSAR.       207 

the  health  of  the  dear  old  land  so  far  away.  The  admiral 
was  absent  visiting  his  sister  at  the  time,  so  we  left  our 
cards  for  him.  After  quitting  the  ship  we  went  in  com- 
pany with  our  hosts  for  a  stroll  through  the  docks.  Lieu- 
tenant Bodiskoe,  of  the  Eussian  Navy,  who  was  the  officer 
deputed  to  attend  the  Minneapolis  while  she  was  in 
port,  was  very  anxious  that  we  should  go  aboard  his  ship, 
which  was  not  far  away;  but,  as  we  intended  to  return  by 
the  way  of  Peterhof,  we  were  obliged  to  decline.  The 
fortress  of  Cronstadt  is  well  worth  a  visit.  It  was  built 
by  Peter  the  Great  in  1703.  It  contains  a  garrison  of 
twenty-five  thousand  men,  and  is  thoroughly  calculated 
to  protect  the  neighbouring  city  from  any  foreign  ap- 
proach. This  is  the  chief  station  for  the  Baltic  fleet  of 
the  Eussian  Navy,  which  is  sheltered  in  the  harbour  be- 
hind the  fortifications.  The  forts  of  Cronstadt,  begun  by 
Peter,  have  been  strengthened  in  successive  reigns.  There 
is  at  Cronstadt,  besides  the  garrison,  a  population  of  about 
twenty  thousand  civilians;  and  its  port  has  a  shipping 
business  of  its  own  quite  independent  of  that  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, which  passes  through  the  great  canal  constructed 
to  overcome  the  bar  at  the  harbour's  mouth.  The  dry 
docks  at  Cronstadt  are  thoroughly  modern,  built  of  solid 
masonry,  and  have  accommodations  for  the  largest  ves- 
sels afloat. 

We  visited  Peterhof  on  our  return,  as  we  had  planned, 
and  found  it  a  delightfully  situated  and  very  beautiful 
imperial  residence.  It  was  built  by  Peter  the  Great,  but 
has  been  greatly  added  to  by  successive  sovereigns.  From 
there  we  steamed  back  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  to  a  sumptu- 
ous dinner  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greger  at  Donon's,  the 
famous  Delmonico's  of  St.  Petersburg,  which  served  to 
close  most  delightfully  as  cheerful  and  pleasant  a  day's 
picnicking  as  one  could  well  imagine. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

EUSSIAN   HOUSES. 

A  CHKONICLE,  however  brief,  of  a  visit  to  Russia  would 
be  incomplete  without  a  mention  of  her  world-famous 
horses.  Whenever  and  wherever  Russian  horses  are  men- 
tioned, a  name  is  instantly  called  to  mind,  one  that  is  well- 
nigh  inseparable  from  them — that  of  "  Orloff."  Many  of 
my  readers  will  perhaps  think  that  this  refers  to  a  breed, 
or  a  district,  the  home  of  a  breed,  and  associate  it  with  the 
Russian  horse  as  we  do  the  word  "  Kentucky  "  with  Ameri- 
can horses,  or  "Yorkshire"  with  English;  but  this  is 
not  so.  It  is  the  name  of  one  of  the  most  rugged  and 
striking  characters  in  Russian  history,  Count  Alexis  Orloff 
Tchestmensky,  to  whom  is  due  the  credit  of  first  improv- 
ing the  native  horses  of  Russia  and  establishing  the  first 
records  of  pedigree,  many  of  them,  written  with  his  own 
hand,  being  still  preserved.  Count  Orion*,  born  in  the 
early  part  of  the  last  century,  of  a  poor  but  noble  family, 
was  exceedingly  handsome,  and  of  powerful,  athletic 
physique.  He  had  great  mental  gifts,  and  was  most  ener- 
getic, becoming  famous  as  a  successful  general,  and  after- 
ward adding  to  his  honour  and  reputation  as  one  of  the 
greatest  statesmen  of  his  country  and  time.  He  devoted 
much  of  his  leisure  to  experimenting  with  horses  and  dogs 
for  the  purpose  of  improving  the  various  breeds,  and  in- 
troduced many  reforms  for  the  benefit  of  the  agricultural 
and  stock-raising  classes.  His  industry  in  this  line  bore 
fruit  in  the  permanent  establishment  of  the  breed  that 
was  ever  afterward  to  bear  his  name — the  Orloff  trotter. 
It  is  a  happy  though  un-Shakespearian  truth  that  "the 


RUSSIAN  HORSES.  209 

good  that  men  do  lives  after  them/'  and  yet  how  curiously 
mankind  fixes  upon  those  qualities  by  which  it  perpetuates 
the  memory  of  its  fellows!  When  Orloff  is  spoken  of  it 
is  not  in  connection  with  his  great  victories,  nor  his  re- 
markable achievements  in  statecraft,  but  with  the  horses 
he  loved  so  well.  This  is,  perhaps,  as  he  would  have 
wished  it.  His  great  rugged  nature,  his  modest  disposition, 
his  strong  mind,  and  his  loyal  heart,  gave  of  their  best  to 
them,  their  welfare  and  improvement.  He  loved  domestic 
animals,  he  loved  his  country,  and  he  did  more  than  any 
other  single  man  for  the  domestic  animals  of  his  country 
at  a  time  when  they  needed  it  most.  He  laid  the  founda- 
tion so  strongly,  and  planned  the  structure  so  well,  that 
to-day,  nearly  a  hundred  years  after  the  sod  closed  over 
his  head,  the  horses  of  Eussia  are  the  equals  of  those  of 
any  country  in  the  world;  and  the  Orloff  trotter  stands 
not  only  pre-eminently  first,  but  as  the  accepted  national 
horse.  This  being  the  case,  I  propose  to  commence  my 
description  of  Eussian  horses  with  the  Orloff  trotter. 

It  is  no  gigantic  task  for  the  breeder  of  to-day  to  pro- 
duce a  horse  of  good  form  and  blood  to  suit  the  require- 
ments of  any  particular  locality.  With  sufficient  funds 
and  fair  intelligence  at  his  command,  he  can  quickly  col- 
lect from  the  different  parts  of  the  world  the  material 
for  his  foundation,  and  in  a  very  few  years,  with  the  proper 
crosses,  he  will  arrive  at  the  desired  result.  How  dif- 
ferent the  task  which  lay  before  this  noble  Slav!  He 
recognised  in  the  native  animal  a  poor,  inferior,  inefficient 
beast,  in  no  way  suited  to  the  country  or  the  requirements 
of  the  people.  The  time  and  necessities  demanded  a  more 
fitting  substitute,  and  he  set  to  work  to  supply  this  de- 
ficiency. Travel  in  those  days  was  a  matter  of  moment; 
it  meant  an  expenditure  of  much  time  and  money.  Coun- 
tries from  which  he  must  gather  his  materials  were  far 
distant  and  difficult  of  access.  The  task  of  transporting 
home  that  material  when  gathered  was  a  stupendous  under- 
taking. While  serving  in  some  of  his  early  campaigns  he 
had  seen  several  specimens  of  the  pure  Arab,  and,  recog- 
nising in  it  great  beauty  of  form,  nobleness,  force,  and 


210  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

energy,  he  decided  to  use  this  blood  as  his  foundation. 
But  for  the  purposes  for  which  he  intended  his  new  breed, 
the  Arab  was  too  small  of  stature  and  too  fine  of  coat. 
The  rigours  of  the  Russian  winter  would  soon  make 
an  end  of  so  tender-skinned  an  animal.  To  remedy  this, 
the  Count  procured  some  large,  big-boned,  heavy-coated 
Dutch  mares.  His  first  experiments  were  confined  to  the 
crossing  of  these  two  breeds;  and  he  obtained  results  evi- 
dently altogether  satisfactory  to  himself,  as  we  find  him 
having  constant  recourse  to  these  infusions.  He  next  pro- 
ceeded to  collect  other  breeds,  and  to  use  them  in  his  ex- 
periments. He  seems  to  have  been  greatly  pleased  with 
the  English  thoroughbreds,  as  he  bought  and  used  a  great 
many.  He  added  to  his  stud  constantly  until,  in  1772,  we 
find  that  he  had  gathered  together  forty-six  stallions  and 
seventy-four  mares,  as  follows: 

Stallions.  Mares. 

Arabian    12  10 

Persian 3  2 

Turkish   1  2 

Armenian 1  2 

Bulgarian 1  2 

Caucasian 1  3 

English 20  32 

Dutch 1  8 

Mecklenburg   ....  1  5 

Spanish 1  1 

Neapolitan 1  1 

Polish 1  3 

Ukraine   1  1 

Crimean 1  2 

The  Count  served  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Rus- 
sian fleets  in  the  war  with  Turkey  in  1770-'74,  and  ob- 
tained at  its  close  from  Hassan  Bey,  to  whom  he  had  been 
very  kind  while  holding  him  a  captive,  four  Arab  stallions: 
Smetanka  (colour  not  given);  Sultan,  a  chestnut;  Caesar 
Bey,  a  gray;  and  Arab  1st,  also  a  bay.  All  of  these  were 


RUSSIAN  HORSES.  211 

supposed  to  be  of  the  purest  Arabian  breed,  and  arrived 
at  Moscow,  the  Count's  home,  in  1775.  Smetanka  was 
bred  to  Dutch  mares,  and  from  this  source  in  1778  was  pro- 
duced a  horse  called  Polkan  1st.  This  horse  was  again 
crossed  upon  the  Dutch  mares,  and  in  1784  produced 
Barss  1st,  "a  horse  with  powerful  muscles,  and  an  elegant 
trotter,  from  which  the  whole  breed  originated."  Barss 
1st  was  crossed  upon  mares  that  combined  the  following 
crosses:  Arab,  English  thoroughbred,  Dutch  and  Mecklen- 
burg; and  from  this  mating  begat  the  three  stallions,  Dobry, 
Lubezny,  and  Lebed,  from  which  have  descended  all  the  Or- 
loff  trotters.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  from  a  foundation 
well  grounded  on  Arab  and  Dutch  blood,  and  by  an  infusion 
of  two  other  strains,  the  Count  succeeded  in  establishing 
a  breed  that  for  size  and  beauty  of  form,  together  with 
extreme  speed  and  endurance,  has  no  equal. 

The  process  followed  by  Count  Orloff  in  perfecting  and 
fixing  permanently  this  breed  after  he  had  once  estab- 
lished it,  can  be  best  shown  by  quoting  from  the  work  on 
Eussian  horses  by  Colonel  Theo.  Ismailoff,  director  of  the 
stud  of  the  Grand  Duke  Dimitry,  who  was  commissioner 
in  charge  of  the  Eussian  Horse  Exhibit  at  the  World's 
Columbian  Exposition. 

"  After  having  thus  established  the  form  of  the  horse," 
he  says,  "most  suitable  for  the  needs  and  conditions  of 
Eussian  life,  since  it  had  to  draw  the  large  and  heavy  car- 
riages which  were  then  in  vogue,  and  at  that  time  con- 
sidered a  necessary  adjunct  of  civilized  comfort,  the  Count 
knew  that  these  fine  forms  must  be  fixed  and  improved 
or  they  would  degenerate  if  left  to  chance.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  kept  up  systematic  trotting  exercises  of  different 
distances,  carefully  noting  the  speeds  by  a  stop  watch,  and 
insisting  on  strictly  regular  motion.  Short  brushes,  four 
times  over  a  course  of  fourteen  hundred  feet,  the  turning 
about  being  done  at  a  walk,  served  to  keep  up  and  develop 
the  regularity  and  speed.  To  develop  power  and  endur- 
ance in  his  horses,  the  Count  often  made  trips  to  the  vil- 
lage of  Ostrov,  twelve  miles  from  Moscow,  accompanied 
by  his  pupils  and  admirers." 


212  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Stachoff  and  Jichareff,  two  Eussian  writers  of  the 
Count's  time,  say  that  they  have  been  eyewitnesses  to 
exercises  such  as  that  described  above;  but  their  descrip- 
tion of  what  Colonel  Ismailoff  calls  a  stop  watch  is  rather 
amusing  to  those  familiar  with  the  "  split  second  fly 
backs"  now  in  vogue.  "A  servant  stood  on  the  course 
with  a  large  timepiece  of  the  size  of  a  soup  plate,  over 
the  dial  of  which  ran  a  big  second  hand,  and  he  reported 
the  time  to  the  Count  after  the  race;  this  time  seldom 
exceeded  thirty  seconds."  When  we  realize  that  fourteen 
hundred  feet  is  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  that  the 
Count's  horse  must  have  trotted  at  a  speed  greater  than 
a  mile  in  two  minutes,  to  say  nothing  of  the  weight  of  the 
vehicle  then  probably  used,  or  the  condition  of  the  courses 
of  that  day,  I  think  that  the  "  soup-plate "  timer  must 
have  been  a  trifle  fast.  It  was  probably  the  one  the  Count 
used  when  he  had  a  sale  on,  or  our  ancient  chroniclers 
must  have  been  mistaken.  In  connection  with  the  ac- 
count just  quoted  there  are  two  interesting  facts — viz., 
that  this  is  the  earliest  record  I  have  ever  been  able  to  find 
of  a  watch  being  used  to  time  the  speed  of  horses,  and  that 
probably  Count  Orloff  was  the  originator  of  this  practice, 
although  his  instrument  was  evidently  a  crude  affair. 
Again,  the  method  he  employed  to  develop  the  speed  in 
his  animals,  and  to  fix  it  when  developed,  is  exactly  the 
one  adopted  at  the  present  day  by  the  best  and  most  suc- 
cessful trainers  of  trotters  in  America.  The  Orloff  trotter 
is  one  of  the  purest  gaited  animals  in  existence.  Even  in 
races  you  see  none  of  the  boots  and  rigging  so  commonly 
used  upon  our  own  trotters.  They  travel  with  their  legs 
well  under  them,  never  sprawling  behind,  and  with  more 
action  than  we  are  accustomed  to  see  upon  our  tracks.  That 
the  Russians  have  succeeded  in  developing  extreme  speed, 
while  retaining  form  and  size  in  their  animals,  is  evidenced 
by  the  records  they  make,  which  equal,  or  nearly  so,  those 
of  American  trotters.  I  was  very  fortunate  during  my 
visit  to  Moscow  in  witnessing  trotting  races  in  which  both 
Russian  and  American  horses  participated,  and  which  I 
shall  describe  in  another  chapter.  The  colour  of  the  "  Or- 


RUSSIAN  HORSES.  213 

loff  "  varies,  being  black,  bay,  chestnut,  brown,  and  gray; 
but  I  believe  many  of  the  purest  breed  are  of  the  last 
colour.  This  was,  however,  naturally  very  unpopular,  and 
the  use  of  many  of  the  best  animals  and  strains  of  blood 
came  near  being  discontinued  several  years  ago  on  account 
of  it,  when,  the  matter  being  brought  to  the  attention  of 
the  Emperor,  he  ordered  that  all  the  horses  purchased 
for  use  in  the  imperial  stables  should  be  white.  Many  of 
the  aristocracy  quickly  imitated  the  Emperor,  and  thus 
the  very  best  of  the  Orloff  blood  was  saved  from  being 
irretrievably  lost. 

The  Orloff  trotter  is  not  only  the  light  harness  race 
horse  of  Eussia,  but  almost  the  only  carriage  animal  used 
there.  During  the  mild  weather  the  Eussians  use  a  light 
victoria,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  Orloffs,  and  drive  at  a  furious 
pace.  It  is  common  to  see  these  vehicles  flying  through 
the  city  streets  at  a  much  faster  than  a  three-minute  gait. 
What  iron  limbs  these  animals  must  necessarily  have 
to  stand  this  use,  when  we  remember  that  all  Eussian 
cities  are  paved  almost  exclusively  with  cobble  stones! 
In  the  winter  the  one-,  two-,  and  three-horse  sleighs 
are  seen  everywhere  dashing  along  at  a  tremendous 
speed.  Then  every  street,  boulevard,  and  road  presents 
a  scene  similar  to  that  viewed  in  our  country  upon 
Euclid  Avenue,  Cleveland,  Jerome  Avenue,  New  York, 
and  like  special  thoroughfares  frequented  by  the  "tal- 
ent." 

While  developing  the  trotter,  Count  Orloff  produced 
many  animals  not  up  to  his  standard  for  size  or  form  or 
gait  in  perfecting  and  perpetuating  this  breed.  They 
were  withal  beautiful  animals,  and  with  his  keen  percep- 
tion he  at  once  saw  that,  with  the  proper  infusions  of  new 
blood,  he  could  from  these  evolve  an  excellent  type  of  sad- 
dle horse.  This  he  immediately  proceeded  to  do.  With 
the  assistance  of  Count  Yorontzoff,  then  Eussian  Minister 
at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  he  purchased  the  following  thor- 
oughbred celebrities  of  that  day:  Tartar  by  Florizel,  win- 
ner of  the  St.  Leger  of  1792;  Dardalus  by  Justice,  winner 
of  the  Derby  of  1794;  also  stallions  and  mares  by  Eclipse, 


IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

Harehound,  Gunpowder,  and  Potatoes,  altogether  some 
twenty-three  stallions  and  fifty-three  mares.  These  he 
crossed  freely  with  the  animals  he  had  already  selected 
from  those  of  his  own  breeding,  and  used  Arab  stallions 
for  an  out  cross.  By  judicious  selection  and  mating  he 
eventually  produced  a  magnificent  type  of  large  saddle 
horse,  a  breed  that  is  maintained  and  kept  pure  in  the 
Government  studs  to-day.  These  horses  are  used  almost 
exclusively  for  mounting  the  Russian  regular  cavalry  regi- 
ments, and  are  wonderfully  uniform  in  their  size  and  ap- 
pearance. Count  Orloff  gives  great  credit  for  the  per- 
fecting of  this  breed  to  the  English  trainers  whom  he  em- 
ployed, and  who  accompanied  the  thoroughbreds  to  Eus- 
sia.  These  three  trainers  were  named  Roman,  Smith,  and 
Banks. 

The  two  breeds  just  described  are  the  ones  to  which 
Count  Orloff  chiefly  devoted  his  attention,  and  they  are 
the  ones  that  bear  his  name.  There  are,  however,  other 
breeds  of  horses  in  Russia,  quite  peculiar  to  that  country, 
and  among  them  that  of  greatest  importance  and  most 
widely  used  is  the  Bitiug,  a  small  draught-horse,  very  strong 
and  quick,  in  almost  universal  use  in  the  cities  and  on 
the  farms  of  Russia.  One  sees  them  at  every  turn,  trotting 
along,  drawing  the  heavy,  clumsy  wagons,  weighing  three 
or  four  times  as  much  as,  and  of  about  one  quarter  the 
capacity  of,  an  ordinary  American  wagon,  with  an  im- 
mense gaily-painted  wooden  arch  over  their  heads.  They 
are  most  symmetrically  formed,  with  hard,  flat  legs,  and 
beautifully  developed  muscle  power.  Their  heads  strong- 
ly resemble  that  of  the  Arab,  being  neat  and  fine,  with 
small  ears  and  large,  full  eye.  They  are  of  different  colours, 
but  blacks  seem  to  be  in  the.  majority.  They  are  active 
fellows  and  can  get  over  the  ground  at  a  very  smart  gait, 
bending  their  knees  and  hocks  like  a  hackney.  In  fact, 
they  very  much  resemble  a  Norfolk  hackney,  but  are  much 
larger  and  thicker.  They  are  bred  along  the  river  Bitiug, 
whence  their  name,  and  form  the  chief  industry  of  the 
provinces  of  Tambov  and  Vorenej.  Here  they  have  been 
produced  and  reared  for  over  a  hundred  and  fifty  years — 


RUSSIAN  HORSES.  215 

some  claim  since  the  reign  of  Peter  the  Great,  who  is 
credited  with  being  the  first  to  perfect  this  animal.  Others 
maintain  that  the  close  proximity  of  the  celebrated  Khreno- 
voy  estate  of  Count  Orloff  exercised  its  good  influence 
upon  this  breed.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  Bitiug  is  cer- 
tainly a  most  excellent  horse,  and  of  great  value  to  the 
country. 

It  will  be  seen  that  in  Russia,  as  well  as  in  all  other 
European  countries  and  in  America,  the  Arab  has  played 
no  small  part  in  the  foundation  of  their  different  races 
of  horses.  As  has  been  shown,  the  horses  of  this  great 
Empire  in  almost  every  case  trace  back  to  the  Arabs  im- 
ported by  Count  Orloff.  So,  also,  we  find  the  English  thor- 
oughbreds and  hackneys  claiming  Godolphin  Arabian, 
Darley  Arabian,  and  Byaly  Turk  as  their  common  ances- 
tors. The  first  Arabian  horse  was  taken  to  England  in 
1121  during  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  Even  the  great  Nor- 
man Percheron  of  France  displays  the  name  of  the  Godol- 
phin Arabian  in  its  pedigree.  American  pedigrees  are  full 
of  Arab  blood,  as  also  are  those  of  Austria,  Spain,  Italy, 
and  other  continental  countries.  It  is  getting  very  diffi- 
cult to  procure  Arab  horses  of  pure  blood,  even  in  the 
Orient.  But  Russia,  with  more  care  and  forethought  than 
her  continental  sisters,  has  preserved  this  strain  pure,  and 
has  within  her  borders  immense  numbers  of  these  beauti- 
ful and  now  hardy  animals — a  hardiness  which  they  have 
gained  through  residence  for  generations  in  her  rigor- 
ous climate.  These  are  greatly  affected  for  saddle  horses 
by  the  gentry,  and  upon  them  are  mounted  the  Cos- 
sacks of  the  Guard  and  some  of  the  light  cavalry  regi- 
ments. 

I  have  given  a  brief  account  of  the  more  important 
breeds  of  horseflesh  which  prevail  in  Russia.  There  are 
several  others,  but  they  are  scarcely  of  peculiar  interest. 
The  horse  of  the  steppes  of  Siberia  resembles  closely  our 
own  Western  broncho.  There  are  other  similar  families 
of  trotters  and  draught  horses.  Russia  also  produces  many 
thoroughbreds,  but  they  differ  in  few  points  from  those 
of  England  or  America.  I  could  fill  a  good-sized  volume 
15 


216  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

with,  this  to  me  fascinating  subject;  but  I  fear  that  the 
general  reader  would  find  but  slight  interest  in  it,,  and  can 
scarcely  hope  for  an  audience  of  horse  breeders  or  students 
of  equineology  for  a  book  bearing  the  title  of  the  present 
one. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

RUSSIAN   EACES. 

ONE  delightful  afternoon  during  the  period  of  the 
coronation  ceremonies,  at  the  invitation  of  my  friend  Colo- 
nel Ismailoff,  I  drove  out  to  the  trotting  track  and  wit- 
nessed some  excellent  races.  The  trotting  track  is  situated 
upon  the  Boulevard  Tverskaya,  about  a  mile  from  Moscow, 
and  next  to  the  running  course.  It  is  very  similar  in  plan 
and  construction  to  like  places  in  America.  But  the 
track  itself,  instead  of  being  made  of  clay,  is  of  brick  dust 
pounded  very  fine  and  packed  and  rolled  very  hard.  The 
space  within  the  track  is  a  beautiful  green  lawn,  occu- 
pied in  the  centre  by  the  band  stand.  The  entrance  to 
the  grounds,  the  stands  for  reserved  seats  and  boxes,  and 
the  betting  ring,  are  all  quite  like  those  at  the  French 
race  courses.  The  club  house  stands  in  the  centre  at  one 
side  of  the  track.  It  is  a  very  pretty  two-storied  structure. 
The  front  of  the  first  floor  is  occupied  by  a  private  stand 
for  members  and  their  families.  The  interior  is  divided 
off  into  dining,  smoking,  and  retiring  rooms  for  their  use. 
The  second  floor  has  upon  its  front  a  balcony  that  ex- 
tends out  over  the  roof  of  the  stand  below.  This  is  for 
the  use  of  the  judges,  governing  committee,  and  officers. 
The  interior  of  this  floor  is  similar  in  arrangement  to  the 
one  below.  In  the  centre  of  this  upper  stand  or  porch 
is  a  space  reserved  for  the  presiding  judge  and  timekeepers. 
Upon  the  rail,  about  three  feet  from  the  floor,  is  fixed  a 
marble  slab  upon  which  is  a  keyboard  connected  by  elec- 
tric wires  with  different  parts  of  the  track  and  stables, 
and  last,  but  not  least  in  importance,  with  an  immense 

217 


218  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

electrical  timing  clock.  By  means  of  this  keyboard  the 
presiding  judge  summons  the  horses  to  the  post,  starts 
them,  and  records  the  time  made  in  each  heat,  or  rather 
in  each  race,  for  in  Russia  each  heat  is  a  race.  In  this  and 
in  the  distance  trotted  lies  the  greatest  difference  between 
American  and  Eussian  trotting  races.  Upon  the  day  of 
which  I  speak  the  stands  and  lawns  were  well  filled.  The 
bright  uniforms  of  the  officers  mingled  with  the  gay  toi- 
lettes of  the  women  folk,  and  were  neutralized  by  the 
sombre  costumes  of  the  civilian  male  members  of  Mos- 
cow's elite.  The  racing  commenced  at  four  o'clock  and 
lasted  till  after  seven,  a  rather  late  hour  to  American 
minds;  but  when  we  left  the  course  the  day  was  as  light 
and  bright  as  when  we  arrived.  I  had  anticipated  seeing 
some  curious  sights  upon  the  track,  as  I  had  heard  and 
read  so  much  of  the  peculiar  vehicles  used  for  racing 
among  the  Russians.  In  this  I  was  not  disappointed.  A 
few  of  the  trotting  men  of  Russia  still  cling  to  their 
national  appliances  and  costumes,  and  I  fortunately  saw 
three  or  four  of  those  queer  little  wagons  to  which  the 
horses  were  attached  in  the  Russian  style,  and  driven  by 
native  drivers.  I  luckily  succeeded  in  getting  a  very  good 
picture  of  one  of  these.  For  the  most  part,  however, 
American  pneumatic  sulkies  obtained,  and  American  track 
harness  was  used.  I  was  also  surprised  to  find  many  fa- 
miliar faces  "  riding  the  ring  "  as  of  yore  in  my  own  dis- 
tant land.  Frank  and  Sam  Caton  and  the  latter's  son  piloted 
frequent  winners  that  day.  The  Brothers  Raymer  and 
old  "  Red  Murphy,"  the  hero  of  many  a  hard-fought  turf 
battle  on  Yankee  soil,  seem  to  have  lost  none  of  their  skill 
or  cunning  by  being  transferred  to  another  clime.  They 
all,  however,  have  apparently  forgotten  how  to  make  use 
of  the  usual  "kick"  that  follows  every  contest  of  this 
character  in  our  country;  or  the  racing  rules  of  Russia 
have  effectually  done  away  with  this  annoying  feature; 
for  I  stood  at  the  elbow  of  the  judge  all  the  afternoon 
and  failed  to  see  or  hear  anything  that  could  in  the  least 
be  mistaken  for  a  complaint  or  protest.  There  are  sev- 
eral points  at  which  Russian  harness  races  differ  greatly 


RUSSIAN  RACES.  219 

from  ours.  Some  of  these  differences  are  decided  improve- 
ments, some  of  them  are  not.  The  first  that  attracted  my 
attention  was  the  absence  of  all  class  distinction.  No 
horse  was  barred  from  any  race  on  account  of  its  speed. 
One  naturally  supposes  that  under  such  conditions  one 
horse  would  win  all  or  nearly  all  of  the  races.  This  is 
avoided  by  a  system  of  handicapping  which  is  most  excel- 
lent if  justly  applied.  Their  handicapping  is  one  of  weight 
and  distance.  For  example,  when  a  horse  shows  itself 
superior  by  reason  of  speed,  it  has  to  pull  a  few  more 
pounds'  weight  and  start  a  few  yards  farther  back,  there- 
by travelling  a  greater  distance.  This  tends  to  increase 
the  stamina  and  endurance  of  the  animals,  and  I  consider 
it  a  good  practice.  In  Russian  races,  therefore,  the  horses 
do  not  start  abreast,  but  at  different  points  beliind  the 
post;  nor  is  a  flying  start  made,  but  the  animals  are  stationed 
at  their  designated  places,  and  at  a  given  signal  upon  the 
electric  gong  all  start,  thus  doing  away  with  jostling  and 
jockeying  for  position  and  an  advantageous  "  send-off." 
Of  necessity,  the  judge  has  a  greater  stretch  of  the  track 
to  observe,  but  from  his  elevated  position  this  is  not  dif- 
ficult. Another  wide  difference  is  in  the  length  of  races 
trotted.  They  are  from  one  to  two  and  a  half  miles,  but 
these,  being  dashes,  are  not  so  taxing,  on  the  whole,  as  a 
number  of  heats  of  lesser  distance. 

Another  form  of  race  quite  popular  in  Russia,  and  one 
tending  to  test  the  endurance  of  the  horses  to  the  utmost, 
is  to  drive  them  from  twenty-five  to  fifty  miles,  and  then 
finish  the  last  mile  or  two  at  the  limit  of  their  speed.  The 
animal  completing  this  task  in  the  best  condition  and  show- 
ing the  greatest  speed  at  the  finish  is  adjudged  the  win- 
ner. Some  of  the  courses  in  Russia  are  divided  into  a  series 
of  little  tracks  about  ten  feet  wide  and  separated  from 
each  other  by  a  strip  of  sod  a  couple  of  feet  in  width. 
By  this  means  each  horse  contending  has  a  track  of  its  own, 
and  the  difference  in  their  lengths  makes  the  required 
handicapping  distance  for  horses  of  various  speeds.  This 
does  away  with  all  struggle  to  obtain  the  "pole."  An- 
other feature  to  which  I  alluded  in  the  last  chapter,  and 


220  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

which  impressed  me  most  favourably,  was  the  almost  uni- 
versal absence  on  the  native  animals  of  "  boots "  and 
"gaiting"  appliances.  This  distinction  enabled  one  to 
pick  out  easily  the  Eussian  horses  from  the  imported  ones, 
even  when  they  were  both  "  hitched  "  to  American  sulkies. 
Upon  this  particular  afternoon  the  contests  were  in  the 
main  close,  and  some  of  the  finishes  exciting,  while  the 
time  made  was  good  in  nearly  every  case.  Here  another 
feature  of  their  system  produced  a  good  impression.  No 
sooner  was  a  race  finished  than  two  men,  carrying  aloft 
on  poles  a  couple  of  blackboards,  upon  which  were  marked 
the  name  and  number  of  the  winner,  with  the  distance 
of  the  race  and  the  time  made,  proceeded  to  every  point 
of  the  grand  stand,  lawn,  and  grounds,  so  that  all  could 
read  for  themselves  the  result,  thus  making  annoying 
questions  unnecessary.  I  enjoyed  this  afternoon  among 
the  horses  and  their  stanch  friends  immensely.  It  was 
as  great  a  relief  as  it  was  a  change  from  the  court  functions 
and  ceremonials  through  which  we  were  passing  and  had 
yet  to  pass. 

I  met  at  the  club  house  many  delightful  people,  both 
men  and  women,  among  them  Count  Alexander  Merod, 
Equerry  to  his  Imperial  Majesty  and  Director  of  the 
Government  thoroughbred  stud,  located  at  Warschan 
Teraspal,  near  Bela.  He  told  me  that  he  had  in  his 
keeping  Lavish,  Sally  L,  and  Uarda,  three  thorough- 
breds that  I  had  bred  and  sold  to  the  Russian  Govern- 
ment several  years  ago.  I  was  delighted  to  hear  good  ac- 
counts of  them  from  him,  and  naturally  felt  a  pride  that 
my  humble  efforts  at  breeding  had  found  an  appreciative 
person  in  such  a  distant  land.  We  talked  long  regarding 
these  former  members  of  my  little  equine  family,  and  the 
Count  courteously  invited  me  to  make  him  a  visit  at  the 
stud.  I  was,  however,  unable  to  do  this  owing  to  the  dis- 
tance and  the  press  of  other  engagements  which  would 
quite  fill  my  time  in  the  country.  What  with  good  races 
and  pleasant  people,  this  delightful  afternoon  passed  all 
too  quickly,  and  the  time  for  our  home-going  was  scarcely 
welcomed.  I  afterward  stole  away  several  times  from  the 


RUSSIAN  RACES.  221 

atmosphere  of  glitter  and  gilt  to  pass  a  few  hours  with 
my  new-foimd  four-footed  friends  of  the  trotting  track 
and  race  course  opposite,  and  spent  the  early  mornings 
watching  them  at  their  exercise  and  inspecting  them  in 
their  stables.  I  remember  one  glorious  morning,  about 
four  o'clock,  driving  through  sleeping  Moscow  in  an  old 
tumble-down  drosky  to  join  Ismailoff  at  the  race  course. 
And  what  a  superb  morning  it  was  too;  how  refreshing 
the  smell  of  the  new  grass  upon  the  plain  of  the  great 
inclosure;  how  bracing  the  fresh  air  not  yet  heated  by 
the  just-rising  sun!  How  pleasing  the  colours  of  the  great 
city,  softened  by  the  distance  and  the  haze  of  the  early 
dawn!  I  drank  deep  breaths  of  the  glorious  air  and 
watched  the  horses  at  their  morning  work.  Here  long 
lines  of  them  were  walking  in  ceaseless  rounds;  there 
two  or  three  were  just  starting  off  on  their  warming  gallop. 
Along  the  rails  one  had  just  swept  in  his  finishing  brush. 
Near  where  we  stood  several  were  being  cooled  off, 
wrapped  in  their  vari-coloured  blankets.  Time,  distance, 
everything  real  vanished!  I  was  once  more  in  my  native 
land.  I  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  infield  at  dear  old 
Sheepshead.  Surely,  that  flying  steed  is  the  mighty 
Salvator!  This  restless  little  beast,  just  coming  upon 
the  track  with  the  superb  shape  of  his  head  disfigured  by 
hood  and  blinkers,  is  the  game  little  sway-backed  Ten- 
ny.  That  blanketed  figure  slowly  moving  under  the  shed 
yonder  is  the  queen  of  them  all.  No  other  horse  ever 
walked  with  that  dainty  tread  but  Firenzi.  That  care- 
less boy,  stripping  the  long  bay,  is  pulling  my  own  cherry 
and  green  sheet  from  his  back.  Yonder  gilt  dome  sur- 
mounts Gilmore's  stand  at  Manhattan.  This  man  com- 
ing across  the  field  we  all  know  well,  and  know  his  clam- 
bakes better.  What  race  course  would  be  complete  with- 
out dear  "  old  Bab  "  ?  The  reverie  is  on  me,  and  I  stand 
and  dream  and  dream;  but  the  awakening  is  rude,  as  all 
such  awakenings  are.  "  Come,  let  us  have  some  break- 
fast," remarks  my  friend,  and  together  with  some  half 
dozen  sport-loving  Russian  officers  we  make  our  way  across 
the  great  field  to  the  club  house,  and  there,  while  doing 


222  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

justice  to  a  very  welcome  meal,  discuss  speed,  stride,  wind, 
form,  blemishes,  and  things  that  are  discussed  in  every 
club  house  on  every  race  track  in  every  country  in  the 
world.  Time  flies!  I  must  be  off;  so,  bidding  my  pleasant 
hosts  adieu,  I  hastily  enter  my  decrepit  vehicle  and  am 
rapidly  jerked  back  into  another  world  and  to  scenes  of 
a  different  nature. 

During  my  sojourn  in  St.  Petersburg  I  had  two  ex- 
periences that  I  remember  with  particular  pleasure.  One 
was  a  forenoon  spent  with  that  superb  soldier  and  polished 
gentleman,  General  Moerder;  and  the  other  was  a  day 
at  the  races  at  Tsarskoeseloe.  When  I  left  Moscow, 
Colonel  Ismailoff  said  to  me,  "  I  want  you  to  know  Gen- 
eral Moerder,  and  have  written  to  him  to  call  upon  you 
at  your  hotel."  A  day  or  two  after  my  arrival  in  St.  Peters- 
burg the  general  called.  I  was  out;  but  he  left  his  card 
and  a  polite  note  inviting  me  to  come  to  see  him  the 
next  day.  I  gladly  availed  myself  of  this  opportunity. 
General  Moerder  occupies  the  important  position  of  Direc- 
tor in  Chief  of  the  Department  of  Horse  Breeding  of  the 
Eussian  Government,  and  as  such  has  an  enormous  number 
of  men  and  horses  under  his  direction.  His  official  resi- 
dence and  offices  occupy  a  large  building  in  the  capital 
city,  and  it  was  there  I  saw  him.  In  response  to  my 
card  a  servant  in  livery  showed  me  into  a  drawing-room  in 
the  residential  portion.  Here  I  was  soon  joined  by  the 
general,  a  tall,  straight,  soldierly  man,  with  a  handsome 
face,  adorned  by  a  snow-white  mustache.  His  hair  is 
white,  and  slightly  thin  on  top;  he  is  extremely  courtly 
and  has  a  charm  and  elegance  of  manner  that  not  only 
put  you  at  once  at  your  ease,  but  attract  you  to  him.  Our 
conversation  naturally  turned  upon  horses,  which  we  dis- 
cussed at  some  length,  dwelling  more  particularly  on  those 
of  Eussia  and  America.  I  found  the  general  thoroughly 
well  posted,  and  was  surprised  at  his  familiarity  with 
American  blood  lines  and  noted  individuals  that  had 
borne  their  influence  upon  our  different  breeds.  He  has 
a  large  collection  of  valuable  pictures  and  interesting 
curiosities,  which  he  showed  me  with  much  pride,  and 


RUSSIAN  RACES.  223 

which  I  thoroughly  enjoyed.  After  some  time  spent  in 
this  portion  of  the  house  we  went  into  that  devoted  to  offi- 
cial business.  Here  many  rooms  were  occupied  by  clerks, 
and  shelves  filled  with  books,  papers,  and  records.  Here 
also  was  his  own  private  office,  with  its  attendant  ante- 
room. The  walls  of  both  were  hung  with  oil  portraits  of 
former  directors,  and  such  celebrities  as  Orloff  and  others 
who  had  done  much  for  horse-breeding  in  Bussia.  After 
introducing  several  officers  who  are  detailed  for  work  in 
his  bureau,  and  explaining  the  methods  employed  in  the 
conduct  of  this  great  department,  he  led  the  way  to  his 
private  apartments,  where  tea  was  served. 

After  presenting  me  with  a  copy  of  his  work,  Apergu 
Historique  sur  les  Institutions  Hippiques  et  les  Races 
Chevalines  de  la  Russie,  he  kindly  asked  me  to  repeat  my 
visit  if  the  length  of  my  stay  in  St.  Petersburg  would  per- 
mit. This  visit,  although  too  brief  from  my  point  of 
view,  enabled  me  to  gather  a  rich  store  of  valuable  in- 
formation. 

The  Russian  Government  has  established  and  maintains 
this  department  or  bureau,  devoted  solely  to  the  industry 
of  horse-breeding — a  department  as  large  and  better 
equipped  than  our  entire  Agricultural  Department.  It 
is  controlled  and  managed  in  all  its  ramifications  by  a 
head  and  a  corps  of  officers  thoroughly  learned  and  ex- 
perienced in  this  great  industry.  All  books  of  pedigree 
and  register  are  not  only  kept  and  compiled  under  Govern- 
ment supervision,  but  by  the  Government  itself,  and  under 
such  regulations  as  make  falsification  out  of  the  question. 
Certificates  are  given  upon  paper  of  such  character  and 
under  such  seals  that  alteration  or  counterfeiting  is  made 
impossible.  The  Government  has  established  and  main- 
tains under  this  department  large  studs,  where  not  only 
the  best  strains  of  each  breed  are  kept  pure,  and  in  their 
most  perfect  form,  but  where  all  experiments  of  crossing 
are  tried  at  Government  expense,  for  the  benefit  of  all 
Russian  breeders.  The  results  of  such  experiments  are 
accurately  kept  and  full  reports  published  and  distributed. 
The  Government  offers  liberal  prizes  and  money  purses 


224  IN  JOYFUL  KUSSIA. 

under  fixed  conditions  at  all  shows  and  race  meetings, 
and  has  a  certain  supervision  over  all  of  them.  It  places 
at  different  points  in  the  Empire  the  best  obtainable 
sires  of  breeds  suited  to  the  various  localities,  for  the 
use  of  the  breeders  under  specified  conditions.  The  im- 
mense number  of  animals  produced  at  these  Government 
studs  and  experiment  stations  are  used  for  the  army  and 
other  Government  necessities.  By  this  system  disease 
is  stamped  out,  unsoundness  not  permitted  to  be  trans- 
mitted, and  animals  produced  of  uniform  goodness.  The 
people  are  spared  all  expense  of  experiments,  and  the  best 
and  most  suitable  blood  is  placed  at  their  disposal,  no  mat- 
ter what  remote  localities  they  inhabit.  The  saving  to  the 
Government  of  the  increased  expense  of  purchasing  ani- 
mals for  its  own  use  nearly  "  pays  the  bill." 

A  few  days  after  my  visit  to  General  Moerder  I  at- 
tended a  race  meeting  at  Tsarskoeseloe,  near  the  beau- 
tiful palace  located  in  that  pretty  little  village.  Ac- 
companied by  three  friends  I  boarded  the  train,  and  after 
a  ride  of  about  twenty  minutes  our  journey  terminated 
•back  of  the  grand  stand  at  the  course,  exactly  as  it  would 
have  done  at  home  had  we  been  going  down  to  Graves- 
end.  Leaving  the  train  with  the  crowd,  we  were  greeted 
on'  every  hand  by  programme  boys  and  loud-voiced  tip- 
sters. We  knew  them  of  old,  albeit  in  a  different  language; 
and  pushing  our  way  along  over  the  rough  board  walk 
to  the  gates,  we  quickly  obtained  badges,  which  were  in 
every  respect  similar  to  those  in  use  in  America.  Passing 
under  the  long  covered  walks,  we  found  ourselves  in  the 
betting  ring,  which  was  located  in  the  generous  space 
under  the  grand  stand.  The  buildings  and  general  air  of 
this  course  reminded  me  forcibly  of  old  Monmouth  Park 
in  its  palmy  days.  I  have  seen  races  and  race-courses  in 
America,  England,  France,  Germany,  Austria,  and  Russia, 
and  they  are  wonderfully  similar  in  all  things  except  their 
methods  of  betting.  The  result  of  that  is  always  the  same! 

Making  our  way  through  the  multitude  of  pool  buyers 
and  on  past  the  beer  stands  and  lunch  counters,  we 
emerged  from  a  tunnel-like  opening  on  to  the  lawn  in 


2»s 

rfij 


RUSSIAN  RACES.  225 

front  of  the  boxes  and  reserved  seats.  Here  everything 
was  even  more  familiar  than  the  scenes  we  had  just  wit- 
nessed. Men  and  women  of  all  kinds  and  nearly  every 
class — bankers,  lawyers,  merchants,  soldiers,  sports, 
"  touts,"  ladies,  pretty  young  misses,  actresses,  music-hall 
singers,  and  women  of  scarlet — every  scale  in  the  social 
ladder  was  represented.  All  was  one  heterogeneous  mass 
of  life,  colour,  and  evident  enjoyment.  Over  the  heads 
of  this  crowd  I  could  see  the  jockeys  in  their  jackets  of  all 
hues  and  combinations  flash  past  on  their  way  to  the  post, 
though  the  horses  they  bestrode  were  obscured  from  view. 
Reader,  are  you  a  racing  man?  Or  have  you  attended 
many  races?  If  so,  you  will  know  the  feeling  of  being 
packed  in  a  crowd,  and  to  have  that  crowd  rise  on  tip- 
toe, and  with  a  great  roar  rush  forward,  carrying  you  with 
it;  hold  you  packed  there  so  that  you  can  not  even  raise 
your  arms.  Your  hat  falls  over  one  side  of  your  face; 
the  case  of  the  field-glass  of  the  man  behind  you  digs  into 
your  back;  the  man  in  front  has  his  heel  planted  upon  your 
instep;  one — two  minutes  of  mortal  agony  pass;  a  cloud 
of  dust  is  blown  into  your  eyes;  the  crowd  breaks  into 
cheers  and  then  separates — some  on  the  run  for  the  open- 
ings under  the  grand  stand — and  you  gaze  about  you  in 
a  dazed  way.  Down  the  track  you  see  a  horse  leisurely 
walking  toward  the  judges'  stand  with  a  boy  in  blue  and 
white  on  its  back.  Surely,  it  is  coming  from  the  wrong 
direction  and  altogether  too  slowly.  When  it  arrives  near 
the  stand  another  shout  goes  up;  some  one  rushes  out  and 
catches  the  bridle,  the  jockey  jumps  down,  and  you  realize 
that  the  race  is  over,  that  thousands  have  been  lost  and 
won,  that  you  have  seen  absolutely  nothing,  and  experi- 
enced, in  the  place  of  that  thrill  that  a  race  engenders  in 
the  breast  of  every  true,  sport-loving  being,  nothing  but 
pain,  anguish,  and  discomfort.  Your  first  impulse  is  to 
go  home.  Reader,  if  you  have  ever  had  any  such  experi- 
ence you  will  realize  how  much  I  enjoyed  the  first  actual 
running  race  I  ever  saw — no,  that  is  not  correct;  the  first 
running  race  that  ever  took  place  in  my  presence  in  Russia. 
I  was  soon  again  among  my  friends,  and  after  a  council 


226  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

of  war  we  decided  to  make  our  way  to  as  high  a  point  as 
possible  in  the  grand  stand,  and  to  try  to  get  comfortably 
located.  This  we  eventually  succeeded  in  doing.  Finding 
four  vacant  seats,  we  were  soon  comfortably  ensconced, 
and  from  this  coign  of  vantage  witnessed  the  next  three 
races.  I  discovered  that  running  races  in  Russia  are  ex- 
cellently managed,  though  very  similarly  to  the  way  they 
are  in  America.  The  starting  is  the  same  as  in  nearly 
all  countries,  by  the  use  of  a  flag.  The  judges'  stand  is, 
however,  placed  upon  the  inside  edge  of  the  course,  and 
is  very  much  more  elevated  than  those  to  which  I  was 
accustomed.  After  seeing  several  races,  we  got  familiar 
with  the  names  and  faces  of  some  of  the  leading  jockeys 
and  other  details.  And  here  was  a  novel  feature  to  me: 
I  noticed  that  many  of  the  riders  were  young  officers,  who 
waged  a  sporting  and  friendly  war  with  the  professionals 
upon  an  apparently  equal  footing.  I  attributed  this  to 
the  comparative  newness  of  this  sport  in  Russia,  and  the 
fact  that  most  of  the  professionals  were  foreigners,  mainly 
English  lads.  It  certainly  demonstrated  that  most  of 
these  amateurs  must  be  very  high  class,  as  they  frequently 
rode  the  winners. 

While  watching  the  horses  being  warmed  up  for  the 
last  race,  a  particularly  fine  chestnut  attracted  my  eye. 
The  race  was  to  be  a  steeplechase,  and  his  superb  build  and 
strength,  together  with  a  long  sweeping  stride,  seemed  to 
pronounce  his  superiority  so  loudly  that  our  little  party 
decided  to  buy  a  pool  upon  his  chances.  We  quickly  made 
up  a  purse,  intrusting  it  to  G.,  who  volunteered  to  pur- 
chase the  ticket.  After  being  thoroughly  instructed  as 
to  which  horse  to  back,  he  descended  in  the  direction  of 
the  pool  room.  "  The  big  chestnut  with  the  near  hind 
foot  white,  remember! "  was  our  parting  shot  as  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  crowd.  Presently  he  returned  in  great 
exuberance  of  spirits  and  profuse  in  perspiration.  Mop- 
pingly  he  explained  to  us  that  he  had  met  a  very  accom- 
modating man  on  the  lawn,  who  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  our  horse,  and  knew  he  was  sure  to  win.  After 
pointing  to  the  particular  name  upon  G.'s  card,  he  related 


RUSSIAN  RACES.  227 

with,  an  expression  of  disappointment  and  grief  how  he 
had  come  out  on  purpose  to  back  this  very  nag,  but,  being 
tempted  during  the  long  wait  for  the  last  race  to  make 
just  one  bet,  he  had  lost  all  his  coin  but  three  roubles, 
and  if  G.  would  kindly  lend  him  two  to  put  with  it  he 
could  get  a  ticket;  and  as  he  was  nearly  always  exception- 
ally lucky,  and  well  posted — the  truthfulness  of  this  was 
scarcely  borne  out  by  the  early  part  of  his  statement, 
though  I  refrained  from  pointing  this  out  to  G. — he  was 
sure  to  win,  and  it  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  us  to 
have  him  "  on "  the  same  horse.  He  also  knew  where 
G.  was  sitting — he  could  see  at  once  he  was  a  perfect  gen- 
tleman, and  not  a  "  regular."  G.  insisted  upon  his  accept- 
ing the  two  roubles,  and  his  friend  felt  so  grateful  that  he 
volunteered  to  purchase  Gt.'s  ticket,  thus  saving  him  the 
trouble  of  going  through  the  crowd.  This  he  was  allowed 
to  do,  and  he  returned  so  promptly,  and  gave  G.  the  little 
blue  card,  covered  with  Eussian  hieroglyphics  and  num- 
bers, in  such  a  gentlemanly  way,  that  G.  really  felt  small 
and  ashamed  at  having  loaned  him  such  a  small  amount. 
This  was  all  very  interesting,  still  further  showing  to  me 
the  similarity  of  race  courses  the  world  over.  While  G. 
was  relating  this  piece  of  good  luck  of  his,  I  noticed  that 
the  horses  were  gathering  at  the  post.  Our  chestnut  came 
by  at  a  grand  stride,  and  I  remarked  that  he  was  backed 
by  an  officer,  which  did  not  reassure  me  to  the  extent  I 
wish  it  had;  but  he  had  a  good  seat  and  his  red  cap  covered 
a  bullet-shaped  head  that  showed  determination.  Two  or 
three  others  now  passed,  but  they  were  rather  an  indiffer- 
ent lot;  then  came  a  cracking  fine  big  bay  at  a  rattling 
hand-gallop,  topped  by  a  young  English  lad  whose  every 
move  showed  that  he  knew  his  business.  As  he  swept  by, 
his  lavender  jacket  whipping  in  the  breeze,  my  heart  sank, 
and  I  would  have  sold  my  share  in  that  pool  ticket  for  a 
very  few  kopecks.  They  were  soon  gathered  at  the  post — 
eight  in  all.  The  little  red  flag  fluttered  in  the  breeze 
and  suddenly  fell.  "  They  are  off! "  Every  one  is  on 
his  feet.  A  shout  goes  up,  and  then  dead  silence  reigns. 
They  are  nearing  the  first  jump.  An  over-anxious  young 


228  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

officer  riding  well  to  the  left  rushes  his  mount.  There  is 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  green  and  yellow  as  he  rises,  then 
horse  and  rider  disappear  on  the  far  side  of  the  wall  all  in 
a  heap.  The  next  three  have  barely  time  to  swerve  and 
take  the  jump  together.  The  bay  is  right  behind.  He 
can  not  swerve,  or  he  will  collide  with  them.  He  can  not 
pull  up!  He  will  crush  the  fellow  on  the  ground.  There  is 
a  flash  of  lavender  in  the  air.  Thousands  of  hearts  stand 
still.  A  whip  pops  like  a  pistol,  and  the  bay  lands  with  a 
few  feet  to  spare.  He  has  cleared  fence,  horse,  rider,  and 
all,  and  goes  spinning  away  up  the  hill.  The  shout  that 
arose  from  that  grand  stand  shook  the  very  ground.  The 
others  got  over  safely,  and  the  fallen  man  and  horse 
struggled  to  their  feet.  The  next  three  jumps  were  passed 
in  safety  by  all.  Then  a  stiff  hillside  facer  reduced  the 
field  two  more,  one  bolting  and  the  other  going  down. 
"Now  the  long  stretch  of  level  opposite  the  stand  is  reached, 
and  the  bay  and  chestnut  draw  away  from  the  field.  The 
boy  on  the  former  sits  perfectly  cool  and  eases  his  mount 
when  two  thirds  of  the  way  across.  I  fancy  I  detect  a 
nervousness  about  our  man  on  the  big  chestnut.  He 
appears  to  grow  too  anxious.  His  horse  has  his  full  head. 
He  passes  the  bay  by  a  length,  but  does  not  his  rider  see 
that  wall  just  ahead?  Apparently  not.  On  he  goes  at  the 
limit  of  his  speed.  He  rises  to  the  wall.  A  cloud  of  dust 
is  thrown  up  from  the  top.  The  red  cap  plunges  forward 
on  the  horse's  neck.  The  chestnut  staggers  and  lands  on 
his  knees.  The  rider  struggles  back  into  his  seat  and  re- 
covers his  horse,  just  as  the  bay  takes  the  wall  gallantly. 
I  see  the  lad  in  lavender  turn  his  head  as  he  lands.  They 
are  off  almost  together  for  the  far  track  fence.  This  they 
take  abreast.  Now  they  sit  down  and  ride,  for  there  is 
but  one  more  jump  and  then  the  stretch  home.  But  that 
last  obstacle — that  terror  to  backers,  that  breaker  of 
stanchest  hearts — it  is  the  big  "wall  and  water  jump." 
See  them  rise  to  it — horse  and  horse,  man  and  man!  See 
that  look  of  quiet  confidence  upon  the  face  of  the  lad.  He 
has  his  mount  well  in  hand.  How  nicely  he  calculates  the 
distance!  How  surely  his  bay  rises!  See  him — his  knees 


RUSSIAN  RACES.  229 

well  pressed  into  the  horse's  foam-flecked  flanks.  See 
him  strike  him  at  the  proper  moment  with  his  heels.  See 
him  drop  his  hands.  How  truly  that  gallant-hearted  ani- 
mal does  his  part!  See  him  land  with  a  good  two  feet  to 
spare!  Watch  him  take  his  stride,  and  make  for  the  gap  that 
leads  to  the  open  track,  home,  and  victory.  Watch  those 
intent  faces  all  around  us — their  mouths  half  open  already 
forming  his  name  to  break  forth  in  wildest  shouts.  The 
chestnut  lands  a  trifle  short.  His  hind  feet  slip  upon  the 
brink  of  the  pool.  He  recovers,  and  is  off  like  a  shot;  but 
this  trifle,  this  momentary  hesitation,  has  cost  him  dearly. 
He  is  already  a  good  half  length  behind  and  the  goal  is 
so  near,  so  awfully  near.  Watch!  see  that  bullet  head  bent 
forward — look  at  the  determination  in  that  face.  Pop! 
pop!  Two  awful  cuts  fall  upon  those  throbbing  wet  sides; 
then  the  whip  flies  through  the  air  from  his  hand — a  little 
puff  of  dust  arises  from  the  track  where  it  falls.  Has  that 
young  amateur  lost  his  head?  Watch  the  freed  hand  grasp 
the  reins  beside  its  brother.  See  that  rowing  motion  of 
the  arms.  His  knees  are  glued  to  the  chestnut's  shoulders; 
but  not  his  heels.  See  them  strike,  and  strike  again. 
Can  a  horse  be  lifted  and  borne  along  on  the  dead  level? 
Look!  See  yon  chestnut.  Inch  by  inch  he  gains.  He 
is  now  at  the  bay's  saddle  skirt.  Now  steadily  and  surely 
he  creeps  up  until  his  hot  breath  is  upon  the  shoulder  of 
his  worthy  foe.  My  brave  lad  of  lavender  is  riding  too  with 
all  the  skill  and  science  he  has  learned  from  his  cradle  in 
dear  old  England,  where  they  breed  horsemen.  But  his 
strength  is  not  so  great  as  that  of  his  adversary.  No  mat- 
ter; they  are  home.  But  two  more  strides  and  the  wire 
is  reached.  One  mighty  effort,  one  mighty  plunge,  and 
the  red  cap  flashes  by  the  post,  a  winner  by  a  nose!  Pan- 
demonium broken  loose  would  scarcely  describe  the  scene 
that  followed.  But  why  weary  the  reader  with  useless 
descriptions?  You  have  all  seen  similar  scenes. 

When  we  had  shouted  ourselves  hoarse  we  hurried  to  the 
train  by  way  of  the  betting  room  to  cash  our  valuable  ticket. 
G.  got  in  line  near  the  window,  and  when  his  turn  came 
presented  it.  The  man  looked  at  it  a  moment,  frowned, 


230  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

and  waved  him  aside.  He  attempted  to  say  something, 
but  was  pushed  on  by  the  eager  winners  crowding  to  re- 
ceive their  gains.  He  tried  two  or  three  other  places,  but 
met  with  similar  treatment.  Fearing  to  lose  our  train  we 
hurried  to  the  cars,  and  secured  places  in  a  general  com- 
partment. Among  the  other  passengers  happened  to  be 
a  gentleman  whom  we  heard  say  something  in  English. 
G.  stepped  up  to  him,  and  asked  him  to  tell  him  what  was 
on  his  little  blue  ticket  for  which  he  had  paid  five  roubles. 
"  Certainly,  sir,"  was  the  courteous  reply;  "  this  is  to  cer- 
tify that  the  bearer  weighs  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine 
pounds,  and  was  weighed  by  one  of  the  'International 
Automatic  Weighing  Machines.' " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   RUSSIAN"   CHURCH. 

WHEN  Moses  struck  the  rock  in  the  wilderness,  a  stream 
of  pure  and  crystal  water  gushed  forth  to  assuage  the  thirsty 
multitude.  When  Jesus  of  Nazareth  struck  the  decayed 
Judaism  of  his  time  with  the  force  of  his  noble,  lofty 
life,  a  scheme  of  ethics,  a  vast  religious  impulse,  was  set 
afoot,  whose  mighty  progress  and  extension  through  the 
earth  have  been  the  measure  of  their  strength  and  beauty. 

Just  how  closely  any  existing  system  of  religion  assimi- 
lates the  sublimely  simple  standard  then  set  up,  or  just  how 
remote  all  existing  systems  are  from  that  standard,  it  is 
not  for  me  to  say.  It  appears  to  be  true  that  all  religions 
have  increased  in  the  complexity  of  their  theology  and 
in  the  differentiation  of  their  ritual  as  they  have  increased 
in  age.  If  Christ  came  to  the  earth  again  in  disguise  and 
visited  successively  the  various  branches  of  the  great 
Church  that  bears  his  name,  which  of  them  would  impress 
him  as  most  closely  akin  to  the  simple  brotherhood  of 
faith,  love,  and  charity,  whose  foundations  he  laid  during 
his  wanderings  in  Judaea,  is  a  problem  more  easy  to  pro- 
pound than  to  solve. 

I  am  persuaded  that  a  mistake  is  often  made,  on  the 
part  of  those  who  adhere  to  the  more  simple  forms  of  re- 
ligious observance,  in  the  estimate  they  place  upon  the 
ceremonial  and  ritualistic  types  of  worship.  It  is  difficult 
for  those  who  are  impatient  of  ritual  to  remember  that 
back  of  every  form,  behind  every  sacred  image  or  picture, 
within  every  sacred  shrine,  to  the  devout  and  earnest  soul 
there  sits  enthroned  a  vivifying  and  spiritual  significance 
16  231 


232  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

concealed  from  alien  eyes.  Nowhere  does  one  need  to  call 
to  his  aid  such  broadening  reflections  more  than  at  the 
altar  of  the  Russian  Church.  Its  ceremonial  is  as  much 
more  elaborate  and  various  than  that  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic Church  as  the  latter  is  more  complex  and  mysterious 
than  the  service  of  the  Anglican  establishment. 

It  is,  par  excellence,  the  Church  of  extreme,  diverse, 
perplexing,  and  very  often  most  beautiful  ritualism. 
Springing  as  it  did  from  the  loins  of  the  great  Byzantine 
Church,  cradled  in  an  Oriental  atmosphere  of  metaphor 
and  symbol,  it  stands  pre-eminent  among  all  the  creeds 
of  Europe  for  the  sanctified  symbolism  with  which  it 
speaks  to  its  children.  The  Christian  religion  was  adopted 
by  the  Muscovites  in  a  very  wholesale  and  national  man- 
ner near  the  close  of  the  tenth  century.  There  was  noth- 
ing half-hearted  in  the  Russian  acceptance  of  the  Byzan- 
tine ecclesiasticism.  It  accepted  the  faith  and  the  service 
of  Constantinople  en  Hoc.  Hence,  from  its  very  incipience 
on  the  banks  of  the  Dnieper,  down  to  the  present  day,  the 
Russian  Church  has  been  one  of  perfected  ritual.  It  ac- 
cepted a  completed  system. 

An  interesting  and  significant  tale  is  related  by  Bunsen 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  half-barbaric  envoys  of  the 
Norman  Grand  Duke  Vladimir  were  impressed  by  the  mag- 
nificent ceremonial  they  witnessed  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Sophia.  Vladimir,  a  prince  of  decision  and  power,  had 
been  approached  by  the  propagandists  of  the  various  great 
faiths  of  Europe  and  Asia.  He  listened  to  all.  He  was 
looking  for  a  national  religion.  Having  listened  to,  he 
also  answered  all;  until  at  last  there  came  a  subtle  sophist 
from  the  great  Eastern  Church,  whose  acknowledged  chief 
was  the  Patriarch  of  Constantinople.  So  impressed  was  the 
rugged  Prince  by  the  skilful  rhetoric  of  the  scholastic 
orator,  that  he  sent  forthwith  an  embassy  to  examine  and 
report  upon  that  religion  whose  most  sacred  shrine  was 
laved  by  the  waters  of  the  Bosphorus. 

It  is  probable  that  to  no  other  embassy  was  there  ever 
intrusted  a  mission  so  vast  and  so  far-reaching  in  its  effect. 
Imagine  these  untutored  Russian  envoys,  fresh  from  the 


V 


f 


Chapel  at  PetrovsM  palace. 


THE  RUSSIAN  CHURCH.  233 

crude,  barbaric  environment  of  the  Slavonic  court,  stand- 
ing on  the  threshold  of  that  splendid  temple  which  even 
yet  challenges  defiantly  the  cathedrals  of  the  world!  They 
enter  its  sacred  portals.  Its  walls  throw  into  their  dazzled 
eyes  the  reflections  of  gold  and  crystal  and  mosaic.  Its 
priests  are  burdened  with  bejewelled  and  glistening  vest- 
ments. The  chanting  of  the  soft-voiced  Grecians  fills  the 
air.  The  cloud  of  incense  rises  before  the  altar.  The 
venerable  Patriarch — like  some  prophet  of  the  distant 
past — sweeps  through  the  awe-struck  throng;  and  behind 
him  follow  the  lesser  clergy,  clothed  in  purest  white, 
with  wings  of  filmy  gossamer  attached  to  their  shoulders, 
in  imitation  of  the  angels  of  Heaven.  The  splendour  of 
the  moment  was  too  much  for  the  children  of  the  steppes. 
They  fell  upon  their  knees  and  cried,  "  This  is  the  gate  of 
Heaven  itself!  "  And  so  they  returned  to  Vladimir.  "  We 
can  not  describe  to  you  all  that  we  have  seen,"  they  said 
to  the  expectant  prince.  "  We  can  only  believe  that  there, 
in  all  likelihood,  one  is  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  that 
the  worship  of  other  countries  is  there  entirely  eclipsed. 
We  shall  never  forget  so  much  grandeur.  Whosoever  has 
seen  so  sweet  a  spectacle  will  be  pleased  with  nothing 
elsewhere.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  remain  where  we 
are." 

This  decided  the  Grand  Duke.  He  forthwith  destroyed 
his  idols,  married  the  Byzantine  Princess  Anne,  sister  of 
the  reigning  Emperor,  and  was  at  once  baptized  at  Kher- 
son, which  he  had  but  newly  subjugated.  Having  thus 
accepted  the  Christian  faith  for  himself,  he  commanded 
that  the  entire  population  of  Kief — where  he  then  was — 
should  accept  the  Christian  yoke  and  submit  to  the  rite 
of  baptism.  In  a  single  day  all  the  population  was  bap- 
tized in  the  waters  of  the  Dnieper;  and  thus  was  the 
Greek  Church  transplanted  to  Eussian  soil,  where  it  has 
become  acclimated  as  a  more  rugged  ecclesiastical  organism 
than  the  parent  stock,  while  it  has  lost  little  of  its  sensuous 
splendour. 

The  Church  which  presents  at  once  the  most  striking 
contrast  and  the  strongest  similarity  to  the  Eussian  is, 


234:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

of  course,  the  great  Roman  Catholic  organization.  Both 
alike  depend  upon  an  elaborate  and  to  the  uninitiated  mind 
often  incomprehensible  ritual;  both  use  the  accessory  of 
sensuous  appeal;  both  attach  to  their  priesthood  plenary 
powers  of  absolution  and  indulgence;  both  repose  a  more 
than  symbolic  faith  in  the  sacraments;  and  both  hold  in 
common  many  of  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  And  there  the  similarity  ends.  The  con- 
trast is  very  wide.  The  Russian  Church  denies  the  su- 
premacy of  the  Eoman  Pontiff.  She  never  has  sought, 
and  probably  never  will  seek,  for  the  political  power  and 
influence  which  to  the  See  of  Rome  have  been  so  precious 
a  prerogative  through  all  the  ages.  Emperors,  kings,  princes 
of  alien  faith,  have  never  bowed  to  the  Patriarchs  and 
Metropolitans  of  Russia  as  they  often  have  to  the  slightest 
wish  of  the  Vatican.  For  herself,  as  an  organization,  the 
Russian  Church  has  no  political  ambition;  the  Roman 
Church  has  never  been  without  it.  In  psychological  pe- 
culiarity, too,  the  two  organizations  differ  widely.  The 
Latin  Church  is  essentially  a  church  of  discipline;  the 
Russian  is  one  of  almost  transcendental  mysticism.  The 
former  is  devisive,  propagandist,  and  like  a  great  mili- 
tary organization  in  the  supervision  of  the  conduct  and 
the  lives  of  its  devotees.  The  latter  is  careless  of  discipline, 
and  relies  upon  the  splendour  of  its  appeal  to  the  senses, 
the  subtlety,  the  almost  Oriental  intricacy  and  mysticism 
of  its  philosophy.  The  antagonism  on  the  part  of  the 
Russian  Church  is  greater  toward  the  Roman  Catholic 
than  it  is  toward  any  other  religious  organization.  Not 
only  their  divergencies,  but  their  convergencies  have  bred 
discussion.  And  yet,  as  I  have  said,  both  depend  upon  an 
elaborate  ritualistic  service  in  their  approach  to  the  people. 
In  the  case  of  Russia,  at  least,  this  is  wise.  Extreme  ritual- 
ism attracts  to  its  embrace  intelligences  the  most  diverse. 
To  the  cultivated  it  appeals  through  their  assthetic  sen- 
sibilities, while  it  enchains  and  subdues  the  ignorant 
through  their  love  of  the  mysterious  and  the  theatric. 
In  Russia  the  chief  appeal  of  the  Church — numerically, 
at  least — is  to  the  latter  class;  while  it  affords  at  the  same 


A  metropolitan  of  the  Crreek  Church, 


THE  RUSSIAN  CHURCH.  235 

time  to  the  educated  and  refined  a  purely  formal  religion 
which  does  not  too  seriously  impinge  upon  the  sphere  of 
individualism. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  absence  of  political  aspiration  from 
the  Eussian  Church.  Let  me  amplify.  The  Russian 
Church  has  no  separated  political  ambition.  It  does  not 
present  the  antithesis  of  a  Vatican  whose  shadow  lies 
crossed  by  the  shadow  of  a  Quirinal.  All  its  ambitions 
are  to  support  the  state,  to  aggrandize  the  throne,  to  glorify 
the  Tsar.  No  Metropolitan  or  Patriarch  has  ever  thrown 
down  the  gauntlet  of  defiance  to  a  Tsar,  as  popes  of  Rome 
have  often  done  to  emperors  and  kings.  It  is  true,  the 
Patriarch  Nicon  quarrelled  with  the  Tsar  Alexis;  but  he 
was  reduced  to  the  lowest  rank  of  priesthood  and  banished 
to  the  Siberian  desert.  The  relation  of  the  Russian  Church 
to  the  Russian  State  is  now,  and  always  has  been,  one 
of  cordial  support,  and  of  sincere,  if  somewhat  selfish, 
reverence.  It  acknowledges  the  Tsar  as  its  spiritual  chief, 
it  upholds  both  his  hands,  either  in  prayer  or  battle,  as 
Aaron  and  Hur  sustained  the  hands  of  Moses.  In  every 
extremity  of  the  Muscovite  throne  the  Church  has  up- 
held it  by  its  wealth,  its  eloquence,  by  the  might  of  super- 
natural suggestion,  and  by  the  awful  power  of  threatened 
excommunication.  There  is  therefore  in  Russia  no  ques- 
tion of  Church  and  State.  The  two  are  one.  The  State 
finds  in  the  Metropolitans,  Archbishops,  Bishops,  and  lower 
clergy,  an  army  of  stanch  and  unflinching  supporters. 
In  every  war  they  have  carried  the  holy  standards  and 
sacred  ikons  in  the  vanguard  of  the  armies;  and  in  stress 
of  State  they  have  reversed  the  career  of  Cardinal  Riche- 
lieu and  laid  aside  the  cross  to  wield  the  sword.  The 
Church,  on  the  other  hand,  is  fostered  by  the  State.  And 
nowhere  is  there  an  instance  of  a  great  national  Church 
which  is  more  loyally  supported  than  is  the  case  in  Russia; 
nowhere  a  Church  more  absolutely  free  from  all  trammel- 
lings  of  State  dictation.  The  Greek  Church  is  thus 
stronger,  and  its  future  more  assured,  in  Russia  to-day  than 
in  any  other  country  where  it  exists;  and  with  the  pos- 
sible exception  of  the  English  Church,  it  has  the  promise, 


236  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

through,  its  amiable  relations  with  the  State,  of  a  more 
steady  expansion  than  any  other  Christian  organization. 
The  opportunity  offered  to  the  Church  of  Rome  in  the 
Western  hemisphere  is  afforded  to  the  Greek  Church  in 
the  Russian  Empire. 

The  first  impression  made  upon  the  mind  of  a  stranger 
by  the  services  of  the  Russian  Church  is  that  of  extreme 
reliance  upon  ceremonial.  Everything  about  the  Church 
and  its  priesthood  is  symbolical.  Ecclesiastical  casuistry 
could  go  no  farther  than  it  has  gone  in  the  defence  of 
minute  forms  and  customs  in  the  Russian  Church.  Vol- 
umes have  been  filled  with  grave  disputes  over  the  shape 
of  an  ecclesiast's  cap,  or  the  colour  of  a  vestment.  But 
to  the  devout  disciple  of  the  Russian  Church  all  this  is 
significant.  Every  shred  of  symbol  is  illustrative  of  a 
truth,  and  eloquent  with  memories  of  that  golden  vision 
upon  which  the  Russian  envoys  gazed  with  wonder-stricken 
eyes  beneath  St.  Sophia's  sacred  dome. 

The  Russian  priest  claims  for  his  Church — as  does 
every  other  churchman  and  sectary  in  the  world — that  it 
is  more  closely  allied  to  primitive  Christianity,  that  it  more 
loyally  perpetuates  the  teachings  of  Jesus  and  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Apostles,  than  any  other  Church  in  existence. 
He  points  with  pride  to  the  fact  that  no  music  except  that 
of  the  human  voice  is  heard  within  his  temples;  that  the 
early  habit  of  standing  while  in  the  act  of  prayer  still  ob- 
tains there;  that  immersion  is  still  practised  in  baptism 
as  it  was  by  Jesus  and  his  great  forerunner.  His  Church 
still  clings  to  the  Greek  calendar  in  the  face  of  a  diverse 
practice  by  all  the  other  nations  of  Europe.  His  Church 
anoints  the  sick  with  oil,  but  it  is  for  their  healing  and  not 
as  a  rite  of  extreme  unction.  Confession  is  enjoined,  but 
it  is  neither  so  frequent  in  practice  nor  so  searching  in 
character  as  it  is  in  the  Latin  Church.  The  holy  kiss  of 
brotherhood — a  heritage  of  the  Orient — is  given  by  the 
priests  at  the  altar  to  each  other,  and  by  the  people  to  their 
priests.  To  all  these  practices  the  Russian  points  as 
proofs  that  his  Church  is  still  clinging  to  the  simplicity 
and  devotion  of  its  peasant  chief. 


THE  RUSSIAN  CHURCH.  £37 

The  Russian  Church  has  no  sacred  images,  but  it  has 
sacred  pictures  without  number.  Its  devotion  to  saintly 
relics  is  extreme.  Its  tradition  of  miracle  is  opulent.  It 
prays  for  the  dead.  Its  fasts  and  festivals  exceed  those  of 
Rome.  Its  posturings  and  genuflexions  are  more  numerous, 
its  spectacular  displays  more  rich  and  varied  than  those 
of  any  other  church  in  Europe.  It  is  the  legitimate  de- 
scendant of  the  Byzantine  Church,  and  it  preserves  the 
heritage  it  has  received  with  unabating  zeal.  It  has  many 
distinguishing  features.  It  administers  the  Eucharist  to 
infants.  Its  parish  priests  are  married.  The  general  par- 
ticipation in  the  elements  of  the  Eucharistic  sacrifice  re- 
minds one  of  the  Reformed  churches,  and  not  at  all  of 
the  Latin.  And  it  stands  forth  as  a  mighty  testimony  to 
the  power  of  symbolism  among  the  ignorant.  The  Rus- 
sian peasants  love  their  Church  and  their  Tsar  with  the 
same  unreasoning  and  complete  devotion.  To  them  the 
Tsar  and  the  Church  are  one  and  inseparable.  The  Tsar 
they  adore;  in  and  through  the  Church  they  worship 
God,  whose  earthly  representative  is  the  Emperor.  Take 
it  all  in  all,  the  Russian  Church  is  a  strange  commingling 
of  apostolic  simplicity  and  the  extremest  ritualism.  It 
is  Catholic  and  tolerant  to  all  other  creeds;  and,  above  all, 
its  past  is  free  from  the  stain  of  blood. 

The  priesthood  in  Russia  is  separated  into  two  great 
classes — the  monastic  and  the  parochial — commonly  called 
the  black  and  white  clergy.  To  the  former  belongs  all 
ecclesiastical  administration;  they  are  separated  from  the 
parish  priests  as  widely  as  the  aristocracy  is  from  the  great 
body  of  the  peasants.  They  are  usually  men  of  intelli- 
gence superior  to  that  of  the  Batushkas  or  pastors.  There 
are  in  Russia  at  least  five  hundred  monasteries,  and  though 
they  are  shorn  of  many  of  the  privileges  which  they  en- 
joyed prior  to  the  reign  of  Peter  the  Great,  still  many  of 
them  possess  enormous  wealth,  and  receive  princely  reve- 
nues. It  was  no  uncommon  thing,  early  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  for  the  monks  to  engage  in  commerce,  and  travel- 
lers of  that  time  speak  of  them  as  the  sharpest  and  most 
intelligent  merchants  in  all  Russia.  It  is  doubtless  true 


238  E*  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

that  this  participation  in  commercial  enterprises  did  much 
to  justify  the  accusation  often  brought  against  them  of 
worldliness  and  greed.  Acquisitiveness  and  abnegation  are 
antithetical  qualities.  Yet  the  latter  was  by  Jesus  declared 
to  be  the  greatest  of  graces.  Mackenzie  Wallace,  whose 
pen  is  never  tinged  with  prejudice,  in  speaking  of  Rus- 
sian  monasteries,  says:  "  During  casual  visits  to  some  of 
them,  I  have  always  been  disagreeably  impressed  by  the 
vulgar,  commercial  spirit  which  seemed  to  reign  in  the 
place.  Some  of  them  have  appeared  to  me  as  little  better 
than  houses  of  refuge  for  the  indolent,  and  I  have  had  on 
more  than  one  occasion  good  ground  for  concluding  that 
among  monks,  as  among  ordinary  mortals,  indolence  leads 
to  drunkenness  and  other  vices." 

The  village  priests  or  Batushkas  have,  on  the  other 
hand,  small  opportunity  for  the  self-indulgence  which 
proceeds  from  indolence.  They  are  altogether  dependent 
for  their  living  upon  the  benefactions  of  their  followers 
and  the  fees  which  they  derive  from  the  exercise  of  their 
offices.  Outside  of  these  Jees,  which  vary  according  to  the 
means  of  the  penitent,  their  position  is  one  of  absolute 
mendicancy.  They  all — from  necessity — are  married  men. 
No  priest  can  receive  a  cure  until  he  has  first  become  a 
husband.  They  usually  intermarry  with  the  daughters 
of  priests,  but  marry  they  must.  Often  at  the  last  moment 
a  young  priest  who  has  received  notice  that  he  has  had  a 
parish  bestowed  upon  him,  will  rush  to  the  nearest  bishop, 
or  to  the  superior  of  a  neighbouring  convent,  to  find  a 
wife.  The  former  will  tell  him  of  some  fair  damsel — the 
daughter  of  one  of  his  clergy — who  is  waiting  to  be  wooed; 
the  latter  will  produce  such  matrimonial  wares  as  are  in 
her  keeping  for  his  selection.  It  need  not  take  a  priest 
long  to  marry  in  Russia.  And  then  the  trouble  begins. 
It  is  a  daily  struggle  with  poverty — poverty,  that  prolific 
mother  of  selfishness  and  greed.  It  breeds  its  offspring 
in  priests  as  in  laymen;  and  so  the  Russian  priests  are 
put  before  their  people  as  avaricious  and  grasping,  when 
they  are  simply  intent  upon  providing  bread  for  the  mouths 
dependent  upon  them.  An  unpaid  priesthood,  or  an  ill- 


One  of  Muscoivs  sixteen  hundred  churches. 


THE  RUSSIAN  CHURCH.  239 

paid  priesthood,  is  a  shame  and  a  blight  upon  any  nation. 
It  has  proved  a  detriment  to  Russia.  The  clergy  sell  their 
prayers  and  haggle  over  the  price  of  a  priestly  office,  while 
the  sick  and  the  dying  gasp  in  superstitious  fear. 

The  Eussian  parochial  clergy  are  withal  very  often  an 
intelligent  and  kindly  class  of  men.  They  are  almost  uni- 
versally good  to  their  wives,  and  for  the  excellent  reasons 
that  they  can  not  marry  a  second  time,  and  that  when  they 
become  widowers  they  lose  their  cures  and  must  become 
monks.  The  intelligence  of  the  parish  priests  need  not  be 
great.  In  the  past,  indeed,  they  were  often  arbitrarily 
selected  by  their  masters  from  the  untutored  peasants. 
Now  they  are  selected  usually  from  the  families  of  the 
priests,  educated  and  ordained  under  the  direction  of  one 
or  other  of  the  principal  sees.  They  seldom  preach.  The 
functions  of  the  altar  they  discharge  with  fidelity.  They 
pray  for  the  dead,  they  anoint  the  sick  and  the  dying  with 
holy  oil,  collect  alms  and  fees  with  eager  zeal,  toil  upon 
their  bit  of  land,  and  give  themselves  otherwise  to  the 
pains  and  pleasures  of  connubial  partnership.  It  is  not 
a  merry  life.  It  is  scarcely  a  life  calculated  to  evoke  and 
strengthen  ideal  qualities;  but  when  one  considers  the 
environment,  the  product  is  not  surprising.  In  their  flocks 
the  priests  encounter,  on  the  one  hand,  easy  and  implicit 
credulity;  on  the  other,  indifferent  conformity.  The 
peasants  are  as  ignorant  of  theology  as  they  are  of  other 
forms  of  learning.  A  peasant  was  once  asked  if  he  could 
name  the  three  persons  of  the  Trinity.  "  Batushka! " 
he  replied;  "  who  would  not  know  that?  It  is  the  Saviour, 
the  Mother  of  God,  and  Saint  Nicholas,  the  worker  of 
miracles! "  It  is  not  likely  that  such  intelligences  would 
investigate  keenly  the  sources  of  inspiration  or  the  grounds 
of  faith. 

The  educated  and  cultivated  Russians  are  devoted  to 
the  Church  as  one  of  the  chief  supports  of  the  State;  to  its 
ritual  as  a  heritage  of  the  past,  rich  alike  in  sacred  tradi- 
tion and  divine  significance;  but  they  do  not  concern 
themselves  with  philosophical  speculations  or  theological 
argument.  To  them  the  superb,  manifold,  glowing  cere- 


240  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

monies  of  the  Greek  Church  are  welcome  as  a  gift  of  the 
Orient  which  they  love,  and  as  enabling  them  to  dis- 
charge a  troublesome  business  in  a  perfunctory  and  con- 
scientious way.  Still,  they  are  all  devout  disciples  of 
Mother  Church,  and  do  not  fail  to  "  tithe  the  mint,  anise, 
and  cumin  "  of  their  ecclesiastical  home. 

In  this  rapid  sketch  of  the  Russian  Church  I  have 
endeavoured  to  dwell  upon  those  features  of  salient  in- 
terest which  it  presents  in  common  with  all  other  religions, 
as  well  as  those  distinguishing  characteristics  which  sepa- 
rate it  from  all  others.  As  a  Church  it  long  maintained 
its  corporate  connection  with  the  Mother  Church  of  Greece; 
but  as  it  grew  in  importance,  it  gradually  assumed  ecclesi- 
astical independence,  which  was  consummated  during  the 
reign  of  Peter  the  Great. 

The  Eussian  Church  is,  in  my  judgment,  suited  to  the 
Eussian  people.  It  is  useless,  hopeless,  and  often  imperti- 
nent, to  attempt  to  thrust  an  Occidental  religion  upon  an 
Oriental  people.  Eussia  is  at  least  one  half  Oriental  in 
mind,  habit,  and  inclination.  The  Greek  Church  mingles 
the  mysticism  and  form  so  welcome  to  the  Oriental  mind 
with  the  classicism  and  casuistry  of  the  Occident.  It  is, 
therefore,  exactly  suited  to  the  mind  of  Eussia.  As  the 
religion  of  a  great,  prosperous,  and  increasing  Empire,  it 
is  worthy  of  respect  and  careful  study.  Its  past  is  rich 
in  the  story  of  saints  and  heroes.  It  has  not  made  its 
progress  through  the  blood  and  storm  of  religious  persecu- 
tion, but  by  a  gradual  accretion  and  constant  devotion. 
If  with  the  inrush  of  modern  light — if  with  the  spread 
of  learning  and  science  in  the  Eussian  Empire — a  spirit  of 
religious  zeal  go  hand  in  hand,  then  the  spiritual  signifi- 
cance of  its  glorious  churches,  its  sacred  shrines,  its  hal- 
lowed ikons,  its  elaborate  ceremonial  of  the  altar,  shall 
become  instinct  with  a  new  and  beautiful  force  which 
shall  lead  both  prince  and  peasant  nearer  to  the  standard 
of  that  ideal  humanity  which  is  the  brightest  dream  of  the 
present  and  the  most  golden  promise  of  the  future. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

VILLAGE   LIFE. 

WHEN*  on  the  way  to  Moscow,  we  noticed  in  every  Bus- 
sian  village,  even  the  smallest,  one  building  conspicuous 
because  of  its  location  and  its  height.  It  is  always  there, 
always  two-storied,  always  exactly  in  the  centre  of  the 
village,  and  almost  always  in  a  slightly  better  state  of  re- 
pair than  the  low  little  houses  that  squat  pertly  about  it. 
I  say  pertly  because  of  their  sharp-pointed  roofs. 

The  one  two-storied  house  belongs  to  the  village  koop- 
yets.  It  is  his  residence  and  his  shop.  The  koopyets,  or 
village  trader,  is  a  person  of  the  utmost  importance  from 
the  village  point  of  view.  He  is  a  thrifty  Ivan.  The 
chances  are  not  against  his  being  the  one  truly  thrifty  soul 
within  the  village  limits.  He  is  a  man  of  substance — of 
considerable  substance  sometimes.  Often  he  is  the  holder 
of  half  or  even  more  of  the  village  land.  Every  other 
soul  in  the  place  is  in  the  debt  of  this  "  soul "  of  much 
importance.  When  this  debt  grows  so  large  that  the 
koopyets  demurs  about  letting  it  grow  larger,  the  debtor- 
soul  is  only  glad  to  exchange  part  or  even  all  of  his  allot- 
ment of  land  for  continued  credit;  for  credit  on  the 
koopyets's  books  means  red  shirts  and  black  bread,  tea 
and  prianniki,  herrings  and  calico.  Above  all,  it  means 
vodka! 

It  would  be  difficult  to  overestimate  the  koopyets's 
power  in  the  village.  The  moujiks  are  at  his  mercy. 
Literally  they  are  dependent  upon  him  for  everything. 
They  are  dependent  upon  him  for  the  clothes  they  wear, 
the  red  shirts  of  summer,  the  sheepskin  coats  of  winter, 

241 


242  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

the  embroidered  scarfs,  and  the  gay  kerchiefs  of  festival 
days.  They  are  dependent  upon  him  for  the  food  they 
eat,  the  relishy  herring  and  the  delightful  buckwheat. 
Each  moujik  grows  his  own  supply  of  rye.  But  he  is  not 
a  lavish  provider,  while  he  is,  on  the  other  hand,  a  most 
lavish  consumer.  So  the  home-grown  and  home-baked 
supply  of  black  rye  bread  soon  comes  to  an  end,  and  Ivan 
Ivanovitch  and  all  his  household  would  starve  were  it  not 
for  the  food-supplying,  credit-giving  koopyets.  It  needs 
no  demonstration  that  the  man  who  is  at  one  and  the  same 
time  the  village  banker  and  its  general  provider  has  a 
mighty  voice  in  all  the  village  counsels,  and  wields  in  all 
its  affairs  a  power  that  it  is  difficult  to  exaggerate.  Often 
he  holds  the  village  politics  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 
and  the  welfare  of  its  people  is  dependent  upon  his  good 
will. 

The  koopyets  is  seldom  a  native  of  the  village  in  which 
he  has  his  tracktir  (shop).  He  is  a  capitalist  who  has 
come  there  to  increase  his  capital.  In  an  inner  room,  ad- 
joining that  in  which  he  displays  and  sells  his  stock,  he 
holds  a  daily  reception  and  gives  a  perpetual  tea-party.  A 
good-natured  fellow  enough,  for  all  his  wide-open  eye  to 
the  main  chance,  is  Michael  Michaelovitch.  In  the  centre 
of  his  reception-room  stands  a  table  surrounded  by  chairs 
or  benches.  The  seats  are  generally  well  occupied.  On 
the  table  stand  a  samovar,  a  bowl  of  lemon  bits,  a  saucer 
of  cut  sugar,  and  sundry  glasses.  When  Michael  Michaelo- 
vitch is  not  in  the  outer  room  selling  or  bartering  (though, 
to  do  him  justice,  he,  unlike  the  city  shopkeepers,  usu- 
ally has  a  fixed  price  for  all  his  wares),  he  is  very  apt  to 
be  seated  beside  this  table,  drinking  and  dispensing  what 
he  fondly  believes  to  be  tea.  And  it  was  tea  once.  But 
the  teapot  has  been  replenished  and  replenished  so  often, 
and  with  warm  water  only,  that  the  once  present  tea  is  no 
longer  perceptible  to  sight,  taste,  or  smell.  But  there  is 
an  abundance  of  lump  sugar,  a  genteel  sufficiency  of  sliced 
lemon,  and  an  absolute  plethora  of  boiling  water.  Michael 
Michaelovitch  welcomes  all  his  friends  and  his  more  im- 
portant customers  to  his  tea-table.  He  deluges  them  with 


VILLAGE  LIFE.'  243 

scalding  water  (more  or  less  tea-tainted,  according  to  the 
hour);  nor  does  he  stint  them  in  sugar.  One  slice  of  lemon 
is  supposed  to  do  duty  for  each  tea-drinker,  no  matter 
how  often  his  glass  is  replenished.  I  myself  have  seen  a 
party  of  moujiks  take  twenty  rounds  out  of  one  poor,  long- 
suffering  teapot,  and  I  have  been  told,  and  doubt  it  not, 
that  a  tea-drinking  peasant  can  do  far  more  than  that  if 
he  only  gets  his  chance.  The  good-natured  koopyets  goes 
on  filling  Ivan's  glass  until  Ivan  can  no  more.  At  that 
point  Ivan  turns  down  his  empty  tumbler  in  token  that 
he  has  really  had  enough.  He  rises,  as  do  all  the  others, 
shakes  hands  with  Michael  Michaelovitch,  and  thanks  him 
for  his  hospitality.  Then  Ivan  shakes  hands  with  each 
of  his  fellow  guests,  and  thanks  them  individually  and 
collectively  for  their  company.  Then  all  turn  to  the  ikon 
hanging  in  the  corner,  cross  themselves,  and  mutter  a  brief 
prayer.  Ivan  slouches  out;  the  others  reseat  themselves, 
and  recommence  their  drinking. 

Outside  the  koopyets's  house  are  two  troughs,  one  al- 
ways full  of  water,  the  other  sometimes  half  full  of  grain. 
If  the  village  is  near  St.  Petersburg,  as  was  the  one  I  saw 
most  thoroughly,  the  troughs  never  lead  an  idle  life.  The 
industrious  Finnish  peasants  travel  from  village  to  village, 
from  town  to  town,  from  some  Finnish  farm  or  fishery, 
to  the  metropolis  itself.  They  carry  e'ggs  and  grain,  butter 
and  fish;  and,  returning  to  Finland,  they  pack  their  little 
two-wheeled  telyegis  with  all  manner  of  Eussian  commodi- 
ties— such  as  find  a  ready  sale  in  Finland.  To  each 
telyegis  is  harnessed  a  sturdy,  faithful,  sagacious  little 
Finn  pony.  These  steeds  are  very  like  their  masters — 
cheerful,  frugal,  industrious,  slow,  tireless,  and  contented. 
It  is  for  them  that  Michael  Michaelovitch  keeps  a  trough 
full  of  water  and  leaves  the  other  ready  for  the  serving 
out  of  the  pony's  daily  dole  of  grain. 

There  is  one  other  person  in  the  village  of  almost  as 
much  importance  as  the  koopyets.  The  starvst,  or  village 
head-man,  is  its  aristocrat;  but  the  koopyets  is  the  pluto- 
crat, and  alas!  even  in  Holy  Eussia,  a  bank  account  is  apt  to 
outrank  rank  itself.  The  office  of  a  Eussian  village  starvst 


244  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

reminded  me  in  many  ways  of  the  office  of  a  United  States 
consul.  Neither  office  is  a  sinecure.  Both  officials  are 
hard-worked,  plagued  to  death,  and  draw  a  salary  the 
minuteness  of  which  really  seems  adding  insult  to  injury. 
In  a  Russian  village  there  is  an  election  every  few  years. 
The  heads  of  the  family  gather  together  and  select  their 
own  starvst,  or  presiding  officer.  It  is  the  starvst  who 
calls  together  the  Mir  or  village  commune,  which  is  com- 
posed of  the  heads  of  all  the  households.  The  Mir,  pre- 
sided over  hy  the  starvst,  is  the  village  governing  body, 
for  in  village  affairs  the  outside  Government  interferes 
scarcely  at  all  so  long  as  the  yearly  tax  is  paid.  And  it 
is  part  of  the  starvst's  duty  to  see  that  it  is  paid.  The 
Mir  gives  out  all  the  contracts  for  village  work,  repairs, 
building,  etc.,  and  lets  out  any  shooting  or  fishing  there  may 
be  over  the  village  lands  or  in  the  village  waters.  The 
Mir  elects  all  the  village  officials.  The  chief  officials  are 
the  starvst,  the  peesar  or  scribe,  the  tax  gatherer,  the 
pastuch  or  cowherd,  and  the  voriadnik.  The  peesar  is 
an  underling — the  veriest  underling;  but  often  after  the 
koopyets  he  is  the  most  powerful,  for  the  sole  reason  that, 
in  making  out  official  reports,  receipts,  etc.,  he  can  partially 
write  what  he  likes,  since  the  chances  are  that  no  one 
else  in  the  village  can  either  read  or  write.  This  makes 
him  very  much  the  master  of  the  situation.  The  tax 
gatherer  is  a  "  soul "  who  collects  from  each  moujik  his 
stipulated  contribution  toward  the  tax.  The  combined 
taxes  are  handed  by  the  gatherer  to  the  starvst,  who  in 
turn  passes  them  to  the  Government  tax  collector  when 
he  comes  upon  his  yearly  round.  The  pastuch  or  cow- 
herd is  a  useful,  necessary  person  in  the  village's  social 
economy.  He  calls  at  each  door  every  summer  morning  and 
takes  the  family  cow  and  escorts  it,  in  company  with  many 
other  family  cows,  to  the  outlying  pasture.  He  guards  and 
watches  over  the  bovines  all  day,  and  at  dusk  returns  each 
to  its  home.  The  voriadnik  is  the  village  policeman.  He 
wears  no  uniform. 

The  division  of  the  communal  village  land  and  the  allot- 
ment to  each  moujik  of  the  portion  which  he  may  culti- 


A  Russian  coachman. 


VILLAGE  LIFE.  245 

vate,  and  upon  which  he  must  pay  taxes,  fall  entirely 
upon  the  Mir.  This  is  the  most  difficult  and  the  most 
important  of  that  assembly's  many  duties.  Fortunately 
for  the  cause  of  peace,  the  decision  of  the  Mir  is  never 
disputed,  but  is  accepted  as  final  by  all.  The  Government 
assesses  the  village  according  to  the  number  of  its  souls. 
But  the  Mir  divides  the  land  upon  a  very  different  and, 
to  all  concerned,  a  far  more  satisfactory  plan.  The  moujik 
with  three  small  sons  gets  a  much  smaller  piece  of  land  to 
cultivate,  and  need  but  pay  a  much  smaller  tax,  than  the 
moujik  who  has  one  infant  son  and  four  strong  grown 
daughters.  To  be  sure,  the  household  of  the  first  moujik 
comprises  four  souls,  while  the  household  of  the  second  mou- 
jik comprises  only  two  souls.  But  the  practical  Mir  reasons 
thus:  One  man  and  five  able-bodied  women  and  one  child 
need  more  food  than  do  one  man,  one  woman,  and  three 
children — therefore  they  must  have  more  land.  More- 
over, they  can  cultivate  it.  And  because  they  have  and 
can  cultivate  more  land,  they  must  pay  a  larger  tax  than 
the  moujik  who  has  the  smaller  allotment  and  can  only 
cultivate  a  smaller  amount,  although  this  second  moujik's 
household  counts  as  five  souls  and  theirs  only  counts  as  two. 
In  every  case  the  Mir  adjusts  the  size  of  the  allotted  land 
and  the  amount  of  the  enforced  tax  according  to  the  needs 
and  abilities  of  each  family.  The  comparative  richness 
and  poorness  of  the  soil  is  also  always  taken  into  consid- 
eration. Of  course,  the  most  coveted  plots  are  those 
lying  nearest  the  houses.  Where  each  moujik's  allotment 
shall  lie  is  determined  by  the  drawing  of  lots.  The  re- 
sult is  always  accepted  and  abided  by  with  entire  good 
nature. 

The  fire  department  of  a  Russian  village  is  unique 
and  amazingly  admirable.  I  commend  its  careful  study 
to  our  home  fire  departments.  On  every  house,  or  on  a 
board  in  front  of  each  house,  is  painted  a  wonderful  pic- 
torial sign:  "  One  is  something  which  might  represent 
a  round  tower,  or  may  be  meant  for  a  tub  of  water;  an- 
other a  ladder;  here,  something  remotely  suggestive  of 
a  hatchet;  there,  two  more  tubs,  and  beyond  is  another 


246  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

ladder.  The  presentments  are  meant  to  indicate  the  particu- 
lar article  each  household  is  expected  to  provide  and  use  in 
the  event  of  an  alarm  of  fire  in  the  village.  As  the  peasants 
have  a  system  of  mutual  insurance  against  fire,,  each  moujik 
will  assuredly  do  his  best  and  quickest  to  bring  the  article 
for  which  he  is  responsible,  and  put  it  into  immediate 
operation  the  moment  he  is  summoned." 

The  village  well  usually  stands  near  the  house  of  the 
starvst.  It  is,  indeed,  a  rare  specimen!  The  bucket  is 
fastened  to  a  very  long  rope  that  dangles  from  one  end 
of  an  enormous  lever.  The  unweighted  end  of  the  lever 
is  many  feet  above  the  reach  of  the  very  tallest  citizen, 
and  would  be  even  though  the  tallest  citizen  held  on  his 
shoulders  the  shortest  citizen.  A  very  long  cord,  how- 
ever, hangs  from  the  lever's  light  end,  and  enables  the 
water-seeking  villager  to  draw  up  the  bucketful  with  very 
great  muscular  exertion. 

Near  each  moujik's  house  you  see  a  disorderly  pile  of 
roots.  These  are  the  staple  village  fuel,  and  are  gathered 
by  the  women  and  children  at  odd  times.  In  every  Eus- 
sian  village  on  any  sunny  day  you  may  hear  the  soft  cooing 
and  gentle  swirring  sounds  of  hundreds  of  pigeons.  They 
are  sacred  in  Eussia,  and  not  the  roughest  moujik  would 
harm  the  gentle  pretty  things.  The  village  pigeons 
are  not  only  always  unmolested,  but  they  are  always 
fat  and  well  fed.  Even  in  cruel  times  of  famine,  the 
rough,  untutored  moujik  will  spare  the  pigeons  many 
a  generous  crumb  from  his  last  loaf  of  black  rye 
bread. 

It  is  a  primitive  life  that  the  Eussian  village  moujik 
lives,  but  it  has  been  my  observation  that  it  is  neither 
an  unhappy  nor  an  unwholesome  one.  True,  I  was  not 
in  Eussia  long.  And  some  one  may  add  that  I  was  greatly 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  things  Eussian  by  the  time  I  came 
to  study  Eussian  village  life.  Certainly,  my  views  on  Eus- 
sia and  things  Eussian  changed  greatly  during  my  stay  in 
Tsarland;  but  I  was,  I  think,  no  more  blind  to  Eussian 
faults  when  I  left  Finland  than  when  I  entered  Alexan- 
drovno.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  I  am  not  alone  in  my  esti- 


VILLAGE  LIFE.  247 

mate  of  many  things  Russian.  Here  is  testimony  corrobo- 
rative of  the  view  I  take  of  Slavic  village  life.  It  was  writ- 
ten by  a  cool,  clear-headed  Englishman  a  few  years  ago. 
Mr.  Whishaw  says: 

"  The  Russian  moujik  appears  to  have  no  ambition  for 
a  higher  state  of  civilization;  he  prefers  to  live  in  the 
primitive  and  simple  way  in  which  his  forefathers  for  hun- 
dreds of  years  have  been  content  to  exist  before  him.  As 
the  result  of  some  knowledge  of  the  villages  of  northern 
Russia,  the  conclusion  at  which  I  have  arrived  with  regard 
to  the  position  and  prospects  of  the  moujik  of  to-day  is, 
that  the  latter,  if  only  he  could  keep  clear  of  the  wine 
shops,  should  be  one  of  the  happiest  of  men.  His  allot- 
ment will  support  him  if  he  works  it  diligently  and  with- 
out being  too  scrupulous  as  to  the  question  of  labour  on 
holidays.  If  he  lives  near  a  large  town  there  are  a  hun- 
dred ways  in  which  he  may  acquire  wealth:  by  plying 
with  horse  and  tarantass  as  isvoschik,  or  trading  in  milk, 
or  cutting  and  selling  firewood,  etc.  The  main  obstacle  to 
his  prosperity  is  the  kabak  or  drinking  shop.  If  he  could 
only  keep  himself  away  from  its  seductive  portals  Ivano- 
vitch  should  have,  barring  famines  and  the  unforeseen  gen- 
erally, as  good  a  chance  of  happiness  as  any  class  of  men 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  his  share  of  the  communal 
land  will  not  keep  him  in  vodka  and  idleness.  As  for  the 
house  he  lives  in,  it  is  not  much  of  a  place;  but  then  he 
would  not  thank  you  for  a  better.  Ivan  Ivanovitch  is  deep- 
ly religious,  though  his  religion  is  largely  tainted  with  su- 
perstition; and  he  cherishes  a  filial  love  for  the  reigning 
Tsar,  leaving  politics  to  his  betters,  or  to  those  members 
of  his  family  who  are  absent  serving  their  time  in  the 
army,  or  making  money  as  labourers  in  factory  and  work- 
shop in  large  towns,  where  the  agitators  can  get  hold  of 
them  to  poison  their  minds.  At  home  in  his  village  he 
is  quite  content  to  live  the  humdrum  life  of  his  forefathers, 
serving  in  patient  docility  his  God  and  his  Tsar,  and  hav- 
ing little  thought  for  anything  beyond  the  daily  routine 
of  work  and  sleep,  with  as  much  vodka  thrown  in  as  he  can 
get  hold  of,  for  Ivan  is  rarely  an  abstainer.  Far  better  is 
VI 


248  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

it  for  him  when  he  clings  thus  to  his  ancestral  Mir— tilling 
the  soil  like  his  forefathers  before  him,  leading  the  life 
to  which  alone  by  nature  and  descent  he  is  adapted,  and 
keeping  himself  far  away  from  the  dangers  of  town  and 
politics,  which  mar  his  simplicity  and  will  lead  him  in- 
evitably to  ruin/5 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 

SLAVIC   LITEKATUKE. 

THE  little  I  knew  of  her  literature  before  I  went  to 
Eussia  had  served  to  whet  my  appetite,  to  make  me  keen 
to  know  more.  I  had,  as  it  were,  nibhled  at  a  slight 
zakuska.  I  had  read  War  and  Peace,  Dead  Souls,  The 
Kreutzer  Sonata,  and  the  Journal  of  Marie  Bashkirtseff. 
In  Eussia  I  made  rather  more  of  a  meal,  not  by  any  means 
a  square  meal,  but  still  something  far  more  generous  than 
a  thimbleful  of  Chartreuse  and  a  mouthful  of  pickled 
pretzel.  And  I  brought  away  with  me,  when  I  left  Eus- 
sia, a  sharp  desire  and  a  firm  intention  to  go  on  reading 
her  books  until  I  had  gained  a  less  fragmentary  acquaintance 
with  the  Eus  literature  and  with  Eussian  men  of  letters. 

There  are,  I  know,  thousands  of  my  countrymen  and 
women  who  stand  where  I  stood  less  than  a  year  ago,  quite 
on  the  outer  threshold  of  Eussian  literature.  There  are 
thousands  more  of  otherwise  well-read  Americans  who 
have  dipped  not  at  all  into  Eussian  literature.  To  the 
former  some  simple  outline  of  the  history  of  Eussian  letters 
may  be  of  interest,  and  not  without  value.  To  the  latter 
it  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  go  with  me  a  few  steps  into 
Eussian  book-land;  and  perhaps  they  will  not  be  alto- 
gether bored — I  earnestly  hope  not — to  hear  a  little  of 
what  I,  who,  though  in  no  sense  a  litterateur,  am  yet  a 
devout  devourer  of  books,  have  thought  as  I  turned  the 
pages  of  that  wonderfully  interesting  and  wonderfully 
peculiar  volume,  the  Book  of  Slavic  Literature. 

Let  me  say  emphatically — let  me  insist — that  this  chap- 
ter contains  merely  the  notes,  the  very  primary  notes,  of  a 


250  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

beginner  in  Russian  literature,  jotted  down  in  no  little  diffi- 
dence and  solely  for  other  beginners.  Should  these  pages 
fall  into  the  hands  of  any  Eussia-versed  scholar,  or 
scholarly  person,  I  entreat  him  to  skip  them.  If  in  a  wil- 
ful mood  he  persists  and  reads  them,  I  charge  him  to  re- 
member that  they  were  not  written  for  him  nor  for  such 
as  he.  If  the  accomplished  member  of  the  senior  class, 
who  is  studying  the  literature  of  the  pre-Elizabethan 
period,  pushes  his  way  into  the  kindergarten,  where  they 
are  lisping  the  alphabet,  on  his  own  head  be  it  if  he  finds 
it  dull! 

No  literature  owes  more  to  other  contemporaneous  and 
nearly  contemporaneous  literatures,  has  borrowed  more 
from  them,  than  Russian  literature.  None  is  more  in- 
dividual, more  characteristic,  more  distinct,  more  distinc- 
tively national,  more  sharply,  radically,  diametrically,  and 
unmistakably  different  from  all  other  literatures,  past  and 
present.  The  men  of  letters  of  no  other  nation  have  been 
so  swayed  by  French,  German,  and  Byronic  thought  as 
have  the  writers  of  Russia.  The  litterateurs  of  no  other 
nationality  have  been  so  formed,  so  influenced,  and  led  by 
the  forms  and  modes  of  expression  of  the  French,  the  Ger- 
man, and  the  Byronic  schools  as  have  and  are  they.  No 
school  of  writers  is  so  distinct,  so  essentially  and  funda- 
mentally and  apparently  national,  and  so  utterly  unlike 
the  writers  of  all  other  countries,  as  are  the  high-priests  of 
Slavic  letters — yes,  and  the  priestlings  too! 

While  in  Russia,  I  was  often  struck  forcibly  and  most 
fantastically  by  the  fact  that  the  Russian  cuisine  and  the 
Russian  literature  have  one  very  salient  quality  in  com- 
mon. Both  are  pungently  Russian;  both  have  adopted 
much  from  the  foreigner,  but  with  a  difference.  The 
Russians  have  adopted  French  cooking  en  Hoc,  and  then 
have  Russianized  it,  giving  it  a  Russian  flavour  by  the 
cautious  introduction  of  a  Russian  dish  or  two,  the  use  of 
a  soupQon  more  cayenne  than  the  French  ever  use. 
They  do  not  adapt  the  French  dinner — they  adopt  it  and 
naturalize  it,  stamp  it  with  the  imperial  double-headed 
eagle,  by  the  die  of  the  prefatory  zakuska  of  vodka  and 


SLAVIC  LITERATURE.  251 

caviare.  But  it  is  a  French  dinner  for  all  that,  as  surely 
as  the  United  States  citizen  who  exclaims,  "  Begorra,  it's 
agin  the  Government  I  am,  every  time,  sor! "  is  an  Irish- 
man. But  Eussian  literature  is  far  less  wholesale  than  is 
the  Eussian  cook  in  the  adoption  of  French  recipes  and 
German  or  English  ingredients.  The  Eussian  author 
adapts  rather  than  adopts.  He  absorbs.  He  is  inoculated 
with  French  feeling,  German  thought,  and  Byronic  man- 
ner, but  he  is  the  veriest  Eussian  at  the  core  and  on  the 
surface,  and  so  are  his  books.  Though  it  be  bound  in 
French  vellum,  yet  scratch  a  Eussian  book,  and  you  will  find 
a  Tartar.  A  Eussian  writer  may  and  often  does  employ 
French  methods  of  expression,  German  methods  of  con- 
struction and  analysis;  but  he  only  does  it  when  and  be- 
cause those  methods  are  beautifully  fit  for  the  clothing  of 
Eussian  thought,  the  describing  of  Eussian  life  and  feel- 
ing. The  book  is  a  Eussian  book,  emphatically,  uncom- 
promisingly, arrogantly,  I  might  almost  add,  were  it  not 
both  impertinent  and  ridiculous  to  call  a  patriotism  arro- 
gant that  never  seeks  to  draw  outside  attention  upon  it- 
self. Eussian  literature  is  for  the  Eussians,  and  if  we 
invite  ourselves  to  its  perusal,  we  have  no  call  to  use  even 
slightly  critical  adjectives  when  we  dwell  upon  its  enor- 
mous, insistent,  and  exclusive  nationalism.  Eussian  litera- 
ture, for  all  its  sometimes  wearing  of  French  cut,  of  Ger- 
man-dyed or  Byronic-trimmed  garb,  is  no  more  enslaved 
than  is  the  European  beauty  who  wears  a  kimono  made  in 
Yeddo  for  a  robe  de  chambre,  a  Mongolian,  or  the  Eussian 
Grand  Duchess  who  orders  her  ball  dresses  from  Paris, 
French! 

The  Chinese  element  in  all  things  Eussian  impressed 
me  daily  and  sharply.  A  friend,  who  has  for  some  years 
studied  Chinese  literature  and  loves  it,  tells  me  that  there 
is  a  distinct  resemblance  between  the  literature  of  the 
nation  of  the  Son  of  Heaven  and  the  literature  of  the 
nation  of  the  Great  White  Tsar.  Both  are  straightforward, 
strong,  and  simple.  One  is  young,  the  other  is  very  ancient. 
But  both  are  vigorous,  rugged  at  times,  yet  soft  and  sweet 
with  sentiment.  Both  are  often  "  naked  and  unashamed  "  ; 


252  IN  JOYFUL  EUSSIA. 

both  are  often  imperially  sumptuous.  "  So  far  as  rich- 
ness in  expression  of  love  is  concerned/'  writes  Brandes, 
"  it  may  be  regarded  as  scientifically  proved  that,  of  all  liv- 
ing and  dead  languages,  there  is  none  so  rich  in  expression  as 
the  Eussian  in  both  of  its  dialects."  Again  a  parallel,  for  the 
Chinese  language,  both  the  Mandarin  or  classic  Chinese, 
and  the  tongues  of  the  people,  are  peculiarly  rich  in 
tender  words,  pet  names,  amatory  nouns,  verbs,  adjectives, 
adverbs,  and  phrases. 

But  to  return  to  my  theme,  and  to  sum  up  this  intro- 
duction, whatever  the  nationality  of  the  chef,  we  must, 
when  we  dine  in  Russia,  wash  down  his  dinner  with  sweet 
champagne,  and  preface  it  with  vodka  and  caviare;  what- 
ever the  semblance  of  any  Russian  book  to  the  volumes  of 
France  or  of  Germany,  it  is  in  the  world  of  books  a  Russian — 
the  veriest  of  Russians. 

The  authors  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome  made  them- 
selves busy  over  the  customs,  the  characteristics,  and  the 
doings  of  the  countries  and  the  peoples  north  of  the  Black 
%Sea.  Interesting,  intensely  interesting  as  the  written  re- 
sults of  that  business  are  (most  especially  those  of 
Herodotus),  they  form  no  part  or  parcel  of  Slavic  litera- 
ture; they  were  written  by  Greek  and  Roman  writers,  who 
were  in  no  way  the  forerunners  of  the  Russian  literati. 
They  were  written  about  peoples  who  have  never  been 
proved  to  be,  and  probably  were  not  (with  the  exception  of 
the  Scythians),  in  any  large  degree  ancestors  of  the  Rus- 
sians. What  the  scholarly  adventurers  of  Athens  and  Rome 
wrote  about  the  countries  north  of  the  Black  Sea  was  less 
absorbingly  interesting  than  what  they  wrote  about  those 
countries'  inhabitants,  but  more  apropos  to  my  theme;  for 
it  serves  at  least  to  show  how  much  the  men  that  have, 
from  remote  times  until  now,  written  of  and  in  the  coun- 
tries now  called  Russia,  have  been  affected  by  and  inspired 
to  reflect  the  natural  characteristics,  phenomena,  topog- 
raphy, climate,  atmosphere,  and  flora  of  those  countries. 
They  all  dwelt  upon  the  cold,  the  ice  and  the  snow,  the 
dark  and  the  frost — the  ancient  writers  who  had  journeyed 
into  what  is  now  Russia;  and  the  writings  of  the  modern 


Count  Tolstoi. 


SLAVIC  LITERATURE.  253 

Kussian  authors  are  all  held  in  check,  kept  rigidly  in 
shape,  clarified,  purified  by  the  clear,  cold,  uncompromis- 
ing atmosphere  of  the  Eussian  winter — the  long  Kussian 
winter.  There  is  something  calm,  clean,  self-controlled 
even  ahout  the  turgid  and  turbid  pens  of  the  men  who 
wrote  The  Kreutzer  Sonata,  The  Gipsies,  Who  is  to 
Blame?  Senilia,  and  Crime  and  Punishment.  They  have 
all  been  men  of  turbulent  passions,  unchecked,  exotic,  and 
pampered  sensuality.  Yes;  even  Tolstoi  the  reformed,  the 
white-haired,  the  gesthetic  Tolstoi,  whose  wue  youth  (I 
might  almost  say  adolescence)  we  forget,  ought  to  forget, 
but  which  was  characteristic  of  the  man,  of  the  man's 
nature,  and  proves  how  in  his  case,  as  in  the  case  of 
myriads  of  Russians,  art  and  the  morality  of  art  have 
triumphed  over  the  potent  naturalism  of  the  man.  And 
yet  upon  the  relentless  exposes  of  Derzhavin,  the  licen- 
tious-mouthed; of  Pushkin,  the  rake,  the  voluptuary,  of  the 
Byron-like  imagination;  of  Lermontoff  the  passionate,  the 
demonized;  Gogol  the  fearless;  and  of  Tchernuishevski 
the  soul-searching — ever  beats  the  cold,  white  light,  the  in- 
different snow-reflected  sunshine  of  arctic  truth,  the  keen, 
unaccusing,  but  unpalliating  search-light  of  arctic  fatal- 
ism, a  philosophy  whose  theorem  is:  "  Let  be.  Condemn 
nothing.  Nothing  is  to  blame,  nothing  can  be  helped. 
All  is  foreordained,  and  foreordained  for  evil."  Ah,  the 
Slavonic  Calvinism  of  Russian  literature! 

It  is  this  startling  contrast  in  the  Russians,  and  in  all 
things  Russian,  that  makes  them  all — their  country  and 
their  literature — so  hard  of  analysis,  so  baffling  of  just, 
even-handed  criticism,  so  unlike  all  others,  and  so  fascinat- 
ing withal.  The  fires  and  the  snows  of  Russia!  Her  pieties 
and  her  sensualities!  Her  blood-red  rose  of  lust!  Her 
"  languorous,  snow-born  lilies  of  soulless  sin  "  and  of  mys- 
ticism! What  if  the  thorns  of  the  red  roses  prick  us  and 
the  cold  breath  of  those  white  snow  lilies  chills  and  sickens 
us?  We  must  learn  to  grasp  and  tolerate  the  jagged  thorns 
and  to  inhale  and  face  the  blinding,  choking,  snow-re- 
flected sunshine,  if  we  would  know  anything,  and  know  it 
at  all  adequately,  of  Russia's  literature,  or  if  we  would 


254:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

at  all  pierce  (as  only  sympathy,  neither  maudlin  nor  nig- 
gardly, can  ever  pierce)  through  the  mask,  sometimes 
stolid,  sometimes  fantastic,  which  Eussia  the  mocking, 
modern  sphinx  ever  wears  upon  her  lovely,  laughing,  pa- 
thetic face.  To  reiterate:  through  the  almost  lurid  heat 
of  modern  Russian  literature  we  may  still  feel  the  keen, 
clean  sting  of  the  snow,  and  it  was  the  cold — the  intense 
cold  of  Russia  (I  mean,  of  course,  of  that  part  of  the 
earth's  surface  that  we  now  call  Russia) — that  was  always 
and  most  intentively  noticed  by  the  old  Latin  and  Greek 
writers.  And  through  the  lustiest,  frankest  pages  of  mod- 
ern Russian  letters  we  can  but  see  the  clear,  clean,  cold, 
crisp,  sparkling  sheen  of  glittering  ice  and  gleaming  snow. 
Gracious,  dignified  old  Herodotus  dwelt  and  dwelt  again 
upon  the  cruel  eight  months'  winters  and  the  cold  and 
stormy  summers.  And  wanton,  amorous  Ovid  wrote: 
"  They  protect  themselves  against  the  cold  by  skins  and 
sewed  trousers,  and  of  the  whole  form  only  the  face  is  to  be 
seen.  The  hair  often  rattles  from  the  ice  which  hangs 
upon  it,  and  the  beard  shines  with  the  frost  which  covers 
it.  The  wine  keeps  the  shape  of  the  bottle  when  the 
bottle  is  broken  in  pieces,  and  they  do  not  pour  it  out, 
but  divide  it  up.  Why  should  I  say  that  all  the  brooks  are 
stiffened  by  the  cold  and  that  they  dig  water  out  of  the 
sea  that  they  can  break  in  pieces?  Even  the  Ister  (Danube), 
which  is  not  less  broad  than  the  Nile,  and  which,  through 
its  many  mouths,  mingles  its  waters  with  the  sea,  freezes 
when  the  sea  hardens  its  waves,  and  steals  out  into  the 
sea  under  a  covering  of  ice.  Where  the  ships  went  be- 
fore, people  go  on  foot.  The  horse's  hoof  stamps  on  the 
frozen  plain,  and  over  these  new  bridges,  above  the  flowing 
waves,  the  Sarmatian  oxen  drag  the  barbaric  vehicles.  You 
may  hardly  believe  me,  but,  since  I  shall  gain  nothing 
by  telling  a  falsehood,  I  ought  to  be  believed,  I  have  seen 
the  immense  Black  Sea  hardened  into  ice,  which  like  a 
smooth  shell  lay  upon  the  immovable  waters.  And  I  have 
not  only  seen  it,  but  I  have  trodden  upon  the  hard  ocean 
plain,  and  walked  with  dry  feet  over  the  sea." 

And  in  the  seething,  fleshly  pages  of  Shevtcheuko  we 


SLAVIC  LITERATURE.  255 

may  hear  the  jingle  of  the  sleigh  bells  and  smell  the  un- 
soiled  breath  of  the  virgin  snow. 

When  and  where  was  Russian  literature  born?  Ah!  it 
was  not.  It  is  like  Topsy — it  grew.  The  old  Scythian 
myths  of  which  good,  trustworthy  Herodotus  speaks  at 
length  were  its  remote  ancestors.  They  were  Slavic,  very 
Slavic,  those  marvellous  mystic  tales  that  the  old  Scythians 
and  Sarmatians  and  Getians  told  each  to  his  fellow  as 
they  threw  their  big,  tired  bodies  down  upon  the  broad 
couch  of  the  steppes,  or  among  the  jungle-like  wild-flower 
tangle  of  the  sumptuous  south  Siberian  summer. 

Near  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century  died  the 
monk  historian  Nestor,  whom  Brandes  aptly  styles  the 
Saxo-Grammaticus  of  Eussia.  He  was  born  in  1050  and 
died  in  1116.  Scholars  give  conflicting  dates.  I  give  those 
given  by  Dean  Stanley,  and  believe  them  to  be  authentic. 
He  lived  in  a  cave-cloister  of  Kieff.  He  wrote  the  first 
chronicles  of  Russia  (I  still  anticipate  in  my  use  of  this 
word),  and  his  work  still  stands  not  only  the  first  of  Slavic 
classics,  but  a  storehouse  of  wealth  to  the  student  of  Slavic 
history,  and  a  book  admittedly  authentic.  The  Slavic 
peoples  had  come  into  and  spread  over  broad  Russia.  Posi- 
tive forms  of  government  had  been  established,  kingdoms 
formed,  and  cities  built.  Nestor  observed  and  wrote  down 
not  only  the  myths  and  legends  that  passed  from  genera- 
tion to  generation  and  from  lip  to  lip,  but  he  recorded 
with  great  exactness  and  careful  detail  all  he  saw.  He 
also  wrote  with  no  mean  authority  of  the  periods  preced- 
ing that  in  which  he  lived,  for  he  had  access  to,  and  in- 
deed possessed,  documents,  treaties,  and  contracts  of  un- 
doubted genuineness  and  real  value.  When  it  came  to  the 
describing  of  battles  and  of  warriors,  he  wrote  somewhat 
erringly.  He  scripturalized  everything.  He  made  fire- 
eating,  barbaric  soldiers  coo  like  sucking  doves,  when  there 
is  no  question  but  that  in  reality  they  bellowed  like  savage 
bulls.  Seukovski  points  out  how  ridiculous  it  was  of  the 
Christian  monk  to  attribute  his  own  holy  horror  of  martial 
murder  and  of  bloodshed  to  the  Varing  Russian  soldiery 
of  those  days.  And  Brandes  writes:  "It  was  only  cow- 


256  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

ardice  that  was  despicable  in  their  sight.  For  the  perfidi- 
ous wrong-doer  they  had  a  respect  which  was  not  denied 
to  him  even  when  they  were  in  arms  against  him." 

Through  the  earlier  Eussian  literature  we  learn  a  great 
deal  of  the  religion  and  methods  of  the  old  Slavs.  They 
believed  in  God,  they  deified  Nature,  and  they  worshipped 
both.  They  worshipped  the  Heavens  and  called  them 
Svarog.  They  worshipped  Dazhbog  and  Ogon,  sons  of 
Heaven.  They  worshipped  Vesna  and  Morana,  Stribog 
and  Perun.  They  worshipped  the  damp  Mother  Earth, 
and  they  called  the  souls  of  the  dead  Eusalki,  and  held 
them  in  almost  Chinese  veneration.  Dazhbog  was  the  god 
of  the  sun;  Ogon  was  the  god  of  fire,  and  corresponds 
with,  or  is  perhaps  identical  with,  the  Indian  god  Agni. 
Vesna  was  the  sweet-scented  spring.  Morana  was  the 
dread  deity  of  death  and  of  winter.  Stribog  was  the  god 
of  wind,  and  Perun  the  god  of  thunder. 

There  are  many  songs  of  distinctly  mythical  origin 
which  are  still  sung  in  every  part  of  Eussia  on  certain 
feast  days — at  certain  anniversary  seasons. 

It  was  not  until  the  beginning  of  this  present  century 
that  the  unique  and  interesting  bilini  were  published  or  even 
collected.  From  the  bilini  we  learn  very  much — our  best 
knowledge,  perhaps,  of  what  the  old  Slavs  thought  of  the 
quality  and  quantity  of  their  intellectual  life  is  derived 
from  them.  The  bilini  are  the  old  Slavic  epic  poems,  epic 
songs.  They  are  a  splendid  kind  of  folk-song — just  the 
kind  one  might  expect  to  find  in  the  big,  vast,  splendid, 
mighty  Eussia.  The  history  of  the  collection  of  these 
bilini  is  so  deeply  interesting  that  I  venture  to  dwell  upon 
it,  feeling  sure  that  they  are  unknown  to  thousands  of 
English  and  American  readers  who  are  fairly  familiar  with 
modern  Eussian  fiction.  And  I  shall  venture  to  quote  again 
from  the  pen  of  George  Brandes — a  pen  as  charming  as  it 
is  authoritative.  I  use  Dr.  Brandes's  words  here  (and  may 
perhaps  again)  because  he  says  what  I  wish  to  say,  and 
incomparably  better  than  I  could  say  it,  and  because  the 
fact  that  the  words  I  use  are  his,  not  mine,  gives  them  a 
greatly  added  force.  If  I  chance  to  turn  the  attention 


SLAVIC  LITERATURE.  357 

of  any  reader  to  Dr.  Brandes's  pages,  that  reader  will  owe 
me  a  debt  of  gratitude  somewhat  commensurate  perhaps 
with  that  which  I  owe,  and  long  have  owed,  to  Dr.  Brandes: 
"  The  first  collection  of  these  "  (i.  e.,  these  bilini),  he 
writes,  "  appeared  in  1804,  consisting  of  songs  which  had 
been  collected  among  the  iron  workmen  in  the  department 
of  Perm.  In  1818  a  new  edition  of  the  collection  was 
published,  with  sixty  numbers  in  the  place  of  twenty-five. 
It  was  then  discovered  that  there  were  a  large  number  of 
epic  songs  in  circulation  among  the  peasants  in  northern 
Russia.  From  1852  to  1856,  Sreznevski  published  bilini 
which  were  recited  in  these  northern  departments;  yet  it 
was  only  in  1859  that  the  investigations  of  Rybnikof,  in 
the  regions  about  the  Onega  Lake,  made  it  plain  that  Rus- 
sia had  an  enormously  large  unknown  national  literature 
in  the  form  of  popular  poems  which  it  was  simply  necessary 
to  collect  from  the  lips  of  the  people.  The  isolation  caused 
by  the  severe  climate  about  the  Onega  Lake,  the  simple 
manner  of  life  and  naive  mode  of  thought  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, the  superstition  and  ignorance,  the  inability  to  read 
and  write,  have  made  these  regions  a  sort  of  oral  Ice- 
land for  old  Slavic  poetry.  Rybnikof  was  followed  by 
Hilferding,  who,  in  the  same  wild  provinces,  collected 
more  than  three  hundred  new  songs  or  variations.  Next 
comes  a  garland  of  poems  published  by  Kirievski,  collected 
from  almost  all  parts  of  Great  Russia  and  Siberia.  And 
in  all  these  songs  the  same  persons  appear,  the  same  ad- 
ventures happen,  and  the  same  poetical  expressions  are 
found.  The  best  of  these  poems,  and  most  of  them,  turn 
upon  the  oldest  memories  of  the  Slavic  countries,  and  range 
themselves  into  two  principal  circles,  the  Kieff  circle  and 
the  Novgorod  circle.  Sometimes  they  point  straight  back 
to  heathen  Russia  and  the  oldest  Aryan  mythology,  which 
lies  back  of  the  Slavic  religions.  Thus  they  also  present 
points. of  comparison  with  the  holy  books  of  India,  and 
for  a  Scandinavian  reader  even  more  interesting  ones 
with  the  Edda  and  the  Norse  myths."  And  elsewhere 
Brandes  writes:  "Regular  geological  layers  can  be  found 
in  all  the  epic  poems  of  Russia;  we  can  see,  more  or  less 


258  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

plainly,  how  certain  conceptions  of  Nature  which  are  com- 
mon to  all  Aryan  peoples  about  the  eleventh  century  began 
to  assume  a  constantly  more  decided  Slavic  stamp.  The 
mythical  heroes,  who  were  at  first  like  those  of  other 
countries,  like  those  of  the  old  North,  for  instance,  become 
decidedly  Eussian  and  decidedly  Greek-orthodox.  They 
are  born  in  a  definite  Eussian  village;  they  are  slain  on  a 
definite  Eussian  field.  The  celestial  mountains,  streams, 
and  seas  which,  in  the  oldest  mythological  language,  in- 
dicated clouds,  rain,  and  air,  become  Eussian  mountains 
like  the  Ural,  Eussian  rivers  like  the  Dnieper,  and  Eussian 
seas  like  the  Caspian  Sea." 

I  may,  for  convenience  and  brevity,  divide  Eussian 
literature  into  three  periods:  the  ancient,  the  mediaeval, 
and  the  modern.  I  use  the  three  terms  simply  and  solely 
as  compared  with  each  other.  Eussian  medieval  litera- 
ture is  young  indeed  compared  with  the  other  literatures 
of  Europe. 

The  ancient  Slavic  literature  I  have  dealt  with  briefly. 
It  flourished  before  the  Tartar  invasion.  It  comprised  the 
bilini  and  the  quaint  historical  and  contemporaneous 
chronicles,  which  latter  were  of  course  written  in  the  old 
ecclesiastical  Slavic  or  church  tongue. 

The  modern  Slavic  literature  was  founded  by  Somousof 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  is  still  being  written  by 
Tolstoi  and  his  confreres.  This  modern  literature  is  the 
real  national  literature  of  Eussia — of  the  Eussia  that  we 
know.  Eussian  book  life  may  almost  be  said  to  be  less  than 
two  hundred  years  old. 

Following  the  ancient,  and  preceding  the  modern,  was 
the  mediaeval  period  of  Slavic  literature.  This  was  a  period 
of  brief  lyrical  poems  and  popular  ballads.  They  are  in- 
finitely sweet  and  tender,  infinitely  sad  and  often  surpris- 
ingly graceful.  They  were  written  in  both  the  national 
tongues:  Great  Eussian  and  the  now  tabooed  Little  Eus- 
sian. The  Little  Eussian  ballads  tell  of  the  lives  and  the 
deeds  of  the  Cossack  people  and  of  nothing  else.  Bold 
adventure,  wild  nature,  and  wildest  warfare  are  the  ever- 
recurring  themes. 


SLAVIC  LITERATURE.  259 

The  Great  Russian  ballads  may  be  divided,  or  rather 
sorted,  into  three  groups,  distinct  as  to  themes,  identical 
in  treatment  and  form.  The  first  and  far  the  largest  group 
comprises  the  love  songs  and  the  songs  descriptive  of  love 
and  of  lovers.  The  second  and  archseologically  the  most 
interesting  group  comprises  the  verses  sung  at  weddings, 
at  Christmas,  and  at  other  festal  times;  verses  often  largely 
descriptive  of  the  customs  peculiar  to  those  occasions. 
The  third  group  deals  exclusively  with,  and  rather  deifies, 
the  Slavic  highwaymen,  the  Russian  Robin  Hoods.  These 
ballads  of  the  third  group  are  always  humble,  and,  as  a 
rule,  mingle  pathos  and  humour  in  truly  Russian  con- 
trast. 

It  is  the  first  of  these  Great  Russian  ballads,  the  songs 
of  loves  and  of  lovers,  that  are  most  vividly  Russian,  that 
are  most  enshrined  in  the  Russian  heart,  most  often  on  the 
lips  of  the  Russian  singer. 

The  Russians  are  wholesale  lovers.  They  are  intensely 
and  keenly  interested  in  love.  They  like  to  suffer  it.  They 
like  to  study,  investigate,  and  analyze  it.  Above  all  and 
beyond  all,  they  dearly  love  to  gossip  and  sing  about  it. 

Brandes  says:  "  The  Little  Russian  and  the  Great 
Russian  popular  ballads  agree  in  two  principal  features: 
in  the  comparison  between  a  display  of  Nature  and  a  men- 
tal condition  which  is  continually  evoked  by  companion- 
ship with  Nature  and  a  poetic  view  thereof,  and  in  the 
richness  of  expression  for  the  most  varied  moods  and 
shades  of  a  love  upon  whose  multifarious  sorrows  they 
dwell  with  ineffable  sadness."  And  somewhere  else, 
following  the  line  of  Carl  Abel,  he  writes:  "  The 
study  of  languages  shows  that  while  love  among  the 
Romans  in  particular  was  love  for  the  family,  for  kins- 
men, and  regarded  as  a  duty,  that  among  the  Hebrews  love 
for  the  whole  tribe,  and,  at  the  highest  point,  love  for 
the  whole  of  mankind,  was  regarded  as  a  religion,  the 
Russian  sentiment,  according  to  the  derivation  of  the  words, 
is  caressing  and  full  of  charm,  exclusively  a  natural  in- 
stinct, far  less  conscious,  circumspect,  and  trustworthy, 
always  wholly  involuntary.  The  domain  of  Russian  love 


260  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

is  the  tender  flattery  which  expresses  itself  in  numerous 
ingratiating  diminutives.  Of  Liubov  (love),  as  a  woman's 
name,  the  common  people  make  use  of  the  names  Liuba, 
Liubka,  Liubkascha,  Liubaschenka,  Liubashetchka,  Liu- 
botchka,  Liubutchka,  Liubushenka,  Liubushetchka,  Liu- 
benka,  and  even  many  others,  each  with  its  different  shade 
of  tenderness  and  caressing.  And,  however  numerous  the 
linguistic  expressions  for  the  sentiments  and  moods  of  love 
are,  naturally  just  as  numerous  are  the  sentiments  and 
moods  themselves." 

With  the  century  and  the  literary  leadership  of  So- 
monosof  came  a  great  break  in  Russian  literature,  a  com- 
plete change  in  the  style  of  Slavic  letters.  Somonosof 
was  very  much  of  a  philosopher.  He  was  not  much  of  a 
poet.  He  remodelled  Russian  as  a  language  of  letters.  His 
verse  has  a  rush  and  a  swing  in  it  not  to  be  heard  in  any 
Russian  verse  previous  to  his.  He  gave  Russian  poetry  its 
metre  and  Russian  prose  its  style.  He  had  a  wonderful 
mind  and  a  wonderful  life.  Born  a  peasant,  he  conquered 
circumstances  and  gained  an  education.  He  travelled. 
He  was  a  scientist  and  a  scholar.  He  was  a  chemist  and 
an  astronomer.  He  discovered  laws  of  Nature.  He  in- 
vented apparatus  and  machinery  of  no  mean  importance. 
He  discovered  the  atmosphere  of  Venus.  He  discovered 
that  amber  was  of  vegetable  origin,  and  that  peaty  soil, 
under  certain  gaseous  influences,  produced  coal.  He  out- 
stripped Franklin  in  many  ways  in  Franklin's  own  special 
line;  and  yet  physics  was  only  one  of  the  many  important 
sciences  and  philosophies  in  which  this  mighty-minded 
Russian  was  greatly  accomplished.  He  was  a  linguist  and 
a  linguistic  essayist.  He  was  a  critic,  a  grammarian  and 
stylist,  a  rhetorician,  a  poet,  and  an  orator.  He  was  an 
artist  (artist,  mark  you,  not  amateur!)  in  mosaic  work. 

"  He  is  the  man  of  genius  who,  for  the  first  time  since 
the  introduction  into  Russia  of  the  intellectual  and  in 
some  directions  material  foreign  ascendancy  by  the  Tsar 
Peter,  gave  an  organ  to  the  old  Russian  national  feeling, 
while  he  at  the  same  time  made  himself  its  poetical  ex- 
ponent and  its  practical  champion — the  latter  being  car- 


SLAVIC  LITERATURE.  261 

ried  out  to  the  most  infatuated  chauvinism.  His  great 
reputation  in  this  generation,  when  his  poetry  is  no  longer 
read,  depends  on  the  fact  that  it  was  he  who  gave  the  first 
impulse  toward  the  liberation  of  the  Eussian  intellectual 
life  and  of  Russian  science,  then  just  dawning  from  the 
foreign,  and  especially  from  the  German  yoke." 

True,  all  true,  and  much  more  than  this  is  true;  but 
he  was  bombastic  in  style.  He  tore  the  literature  of  Rus- 
sia away  from  its  old  roots.  He  inaugurated  a  school  of 
letters  as  far  as  possible  away  from  the  simple  ballads  of 
the  people.  To  him  the  dress  of  the  poem  was  everything, 
the  heart  but  little.  Language  and  manner  outweighed 
thought  and  feeling. 

The  reading  of  his  life  is  interesting  even  beyond  the 
point  where  interest  becomes  fascination.  He  must  al- 
ways be  remembered  as  one  of  the  world's  really  great  men, 
and  as  the  father  of  modern  Russian  literature.  He  was 
the  forerunner  of  Turgenef,  of  Dostoyevski,  and  of  Tol- 
stoi. 

Of  the  literature  that  Somonosof  gathered  into  in- 
dividual shape,  and  to  which  he  gave  form,  new  and  mod- 
ern, and  into  which  he  inoculated  much  of  his  own 
strange,  splendid,  and  kinless  personality,  there  is  an  al- 
most unlimited  quantity  to  be  said.  Modern  Russian  lit- 
erature is  largely  at  the  disposal  of  those  who  read  only 
French,  German,  and  English.  A  part  of  it — an  interest- 
ing and  not  inconsiderable  part- — is  within  the  reading 
of  those  who  know  only  English.  And  the  masterpieces 
of  Russia's  recent  writers  are  being  translated  more  and 
more  every  day.  To  those  who  know  none  of  them  I  can 
only  say  (but  I  say  it  emphatically),  "  Read  one  and  you  will 
read  all." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SLAVIC   AET. 

No  other  two  arts  are  so  near  to  each  other  in  source, 
so  different  from  each  other  in  course,  so  distant  from  each 
other  in  ultimate  achievement,  as  are  the  arts  of  Russia 
and  Japan.  Russian  art,  like  that  of  Japan,  is  the  acme 
of  imitation.  Japanese  art  is  superlatively  and  gracefully 
triumphant  because  it  improves  even  more  than  it  imi- 
tates. Russian  art  is  supremely  and  regnantly  triumphant 
in  that  it  defies  far  more  than  it  imitates.  The  art  of 
Russia  and  the  art  of  Japan  are  twin  in  their  chief  natal 
and  lifelong  characteristic,  eternally  divorced  in  their 
grown  or  half-grown  course  of  life,  and  in  their  indelible 
hall-marks  of  national  individuality.  No  two  could  be  more 
different  of  development  or  of  every-day  life.  They  are 
one  in  principle;  they  are  as  different  as  they  can  be 
in  technical  method,  though  at  heart  they  are  alike  in  aim- 
ing first  at  national  aggrandizement  and  only  secondly  at 
art  admirability.  The  artists  of  Japan  have  sat — very 
lovingly,  though  perhaps  not  quite  openly — at  the  feet 
of  the  artists  of  China,  of  Korea,  of  Persia,  and  of  many 
other  peoples.  The  artists  of  Russia  have  roughly  seized 
upon  the  ideas  and  methods  of  the  artists  of  almost  every 
other  nation,  have  bound  those  ideas  and  dragged  them 
chained  captive  to  the  chariot  wheels  of  their  own  auda- 
cious Slavic  art.  What  Russia  has  taken  from  others  she  has 
seized  openly,  disdainfully.  She  takes  a  tower  from  Rome, 
an  arch  from  Delhi,  a  minaret  from  Constantinople,  a 
wall  from  Pekin,  a  bell  from  Mandalay,  a  belfry  from 
Copenhagen,  splashes  them  thickly  with  her  own  barbaric 


SLAVIC  ART.  263 

colors,  throws  them  together  roughly,  scornfully;  adds 
here  and  there  some  touch  of  her  own;  and  lo!  we  have 
the  rankest  conglomeration  of  an  edifice — a  building  break- 
ing, and  apparently  defying,  almost  every  architectural 
law,  and  sinning  wantonly  against  every  accepted  canon 
of  good  taste  and  of  art  composition.  And  yet  it  is  a 
building  at  sight  of  which  we  catch  our  astonished  and 
delighted  breath,  and  to  whose  unrivalled  loveliness  all 
civilization  takes  off  its  hat.  I  frankly  believe  that  the 
daring  and  the  bad  taste  of  the  Eussians  have  made  their 
art  successful.  They  will  put  a  Gothic  arch  in  a  Byzan- 
tine wall,  and  a  Hindu  dome  over  both,  and  lo!  the  effect 
which  ought  to  disgust  is  charming.  I  say  "  bad  taste  " 
advisedly.  It  is  bad  taste  to  make  an  architectural  patch- 
work not  only  widely  divergent,  but  essentially  and  elo- 
quently irreconcilable  as  to  detail.  It  is  bad  taste,  the 
worst  of  bad  form,  and  nothing  would  or  could  justify  it, 
except  unqualified  success.  And  it  is — in  Eussian  hands — 
successful,  splendidly,  supremely  successful! 

Let  me  enumerate  from  memory,  and  quite  without 
any  attempt  at  completeness  or  arrangement,  some  of  the 
arts  and  architectures  which,  in  part  or  in  whole,  Eussian 
art  has  appropriated  and  incorporated  into  her  own — Ara- 
bian, Byzantine,  Indian,  Gothic,  Eenaissance,  Indo-Tartar, 
Tartar,  Persian,  those  of  Asia  Minor,  Eoman,  Italian,  Chi- 
nese, Thibetan,  Greco-Byzantine,  Armenian.  These  are 
some  (and  some  only)  of  the  arts  that  Eussia  has  incorpo- 
rated into  her  own,  at  the  same  time  welding  them  thickly 
together  with  a  local  Scythian  element.  Eussian  art  is 
not  original,  but  it  is  very  individual.  Japanese  art  is  not 
original,  but  it  is  very  individual.  Eussian  art  commands 
our  respect.  Japanese  art  wins  our  admiration.  Japan 
borrows  an  idea  and  improves  upon  it,  treats  it  with  such 
exquisite  taste,  such  beautiful  delicacy  of  touch,  such  per- 
fection of  detail  and  execution,  and,  above  all,  with  such 
admirable  self-control,  that  only  the  learned,  the  thought- 
ful, and  the  calmly  observant  recognise  it;  and  even  they 
lose  sight  of  the  source  of  the  inspiration  in  admiration 
for  the  genius  of  the  execution.  In  this  great  delicacy 
18 


264:  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

of  touch,  (the  chief  characteristic  of  the  Japanese  and  of 
all  things  Japanese),  this  acme  of  good  taste,  lies  the 
strongly  marked  individuality.  The  Japanese  take  the  art 
of  Korea,  the  art  of  China,  and  the  art  of  Persia  (these 
three  countries  have  been  the  principal  sources),  treat  them 
with  their  own  peculiar  grace- — nay,  more — imbue  those  arts 
with  that  grace,  stamp  them  with  the  chrysanthemum 
flower,  hall-mark  of  Japan,  and  what  wa's  the  art  of  China, 
the  art  of  Korea,  or  the  art  of  Persia,  is  the  art  of  Japan: 
an  art  as  graceful,  as  pleasing,  and  as  unmistakably  in- 
dividual withal  as  any  in  the  world.  The  Eussians  take  the 
arts  of  every  nation  and  throw  them  together  scornfully, 
shake  them  into  Eussian  shape,  flood  them  with  Eussian 
colour,  stamp  them  proudly  with  the  double-headed  eagle, 
and  what  were  members  of  half  the  known  nations  is  Eus- 
sian art — an  art  as  striking  as  eye-delighting,  and  as  splen- 
didly, as  proudly,  and  as  unchallengeably  individual  as 
any  national  art  in  the  world. 

I  have  said  that  in  its  great  delicacy  of  touch,  its 
quintessence  of  good  taste,  lies  the  strongly  marked  individ- 
uality of  Japanese  art.  In  its  rough  masterfulness  of 
touch,  its  defiance  and  scorn  of  law,  of  order,  and  of  the 
accepted  canons  of  good  taste  of  other  nations  lies  the 
strongly  marked  individuality  of  Slavic  art. 

Japan  triumphs  with  one  brushful  of  paint.  She  paints 
a  swallow's  wing,  drawing  as  she  washes  in,  as  never  yet  a 
swallow's  wing  was  painted.  Because  of  her  wonderful 
gift  of  touch  and  her  almost  equal  genius  of  implying,  we 
see  not  only  the  wing  but  the  bird,  not  only  the  bird  but 
a  whole  flight  of  swallows,  the  blue  of  the  summer  sky 
across  which  they  fly,  the  glory  of  the  warm,  scent-thick 
June  day,  and  the  white  and  purple  blossoms  of  the  wistaria 
vines  on  which  the  birds  perch  as  they  halt  to  rest  and 
prune  their  soft  gray  breasts. 

Eussia  triumphs  with  the  contents  of  all  the  tubes  of 
her  paint-box  squeezed  upon  her  huge  palette,  wrenches 
members  from  every  art  system  that  pleases  her,  combines 
them  with  a  ruthless  method  of  her  own,  and  the  result, 
the  crowning  result  of  all  her  architecture,  of  all  her  art, 


SLAVIC  ART.  265 

is  St.  Basil,  a  temple  as  unique  as  the  Sikh's  Golden 
Temple  at  Amritzir,  or  the  most  famous  temple  in  Pekin, 
and  second  in  heauty  only  to  the  Taj  Mahal. 

I  would  class  Russian  art  under  three  heads:  I.  Mod- 
ern Secular  Art.  2.  Architecture.  3.  Religious  Art. 

I  have  put  Secular  Art  (meaning  chiefly  the  art  of 
painting)  first,  and  will  deal  with  it  first,  not  because  it 
is  the  most  interesting  of  the  three  divisions  (as  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  think  it  the  least  interesting),  but  because  it  is 
the  least  known. 

Russian  painting  is  quite  the  most  modern  of  all  modern 
art.  I  am  not  speaking  of  ikon  painting,  nor  of  other 
church  painting,  but  of  secular  painting,  the  painting  of 
pictures.  Fifty  years  ago  there  was  no  school  of  Russian 
painting  of  this  class;  but  now  it  thrives.  And  the  wealthy 
Slav  who  wishes  to  hang  pictures  of  merit  upon  the  walls 
of  his  home  is  not  forced  to  go  to  Paris,  Dresden,  or  Vienna 
to  make  his  purchases. 

There  is  much  in  common  between  the  modern  French 
and  the  modern  Russian  schools  of  painting.  There  is  a 
close  analogy  and  intimate  relationship  between  modern 
Russian  art  and  modern  Russian  literature.  Russian  art 
has  been  evolved  as  Russian  literature  has  been  evolved, 
born  of  the  same  influences,  influenced  by  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, almost  step  for  step.  And  both  art  and  litera- 
ture are  deeply  in  sympathy  with,  and  are  greatly  indebted 
to,  the  art  and  literature  of  France. 

"Within  the  last  thirty  years  the  painters  of  Russia 
"  have  become  the  portraitists,  the  satirists,  the  prophets, 
the  amusers,  the  consolers,  and  the  educators  of  the  masses; 
and,  thanks  to  the  Ambulant  Exhibition,  the  influence  of 
the  genre  painters  in  modern  Russia  is  increasing  every 
year." 

Within  the  last  half,  almost  within  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century,  the  first  exhibition  of  Russian  paintings  was 
held  at  St.  Petersburg.  For  years  it  was  the  only  exhibition 
of  its  kind  in  all  the  Empire.  Then  annual  exhibitions 
were  held  in  three  of  the  chief  cities.  A  few  years  later 
regular  Ambulant  Exhibitions  were  inaugurated.  And 


266  !N  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

now  the  masterpieces  of  Russian  art  travel  from  province 
to  province,  giving  the  hungry-eyed  dwellers  in  out-of-the- 
way  places  glimpses  of  art  and  beauty,  as  the  teachers 
of  the  ambulatory  schools  of  Norway  travel  from  coast- 
line to  boundary,  carrying  education  and  refinement  to  the 
eager-minded  dwellers  on  isolated  mountain  farms. 

Far  the  greatest  of  Russia's  painters  is  Elias  Ef unovitch 
Repine.  He  is  unrivalled  in  his  colour  schemes  and  in  his 
management  of  lights.  No  artist  has  ever  had  a  more 
complete  gift  of  telling  a  story  with  brush  and  pencil — 
telling  it  with  thought,  with  lucidity,  and  in  detail.  There 
is  no  chord  of  human  sentiment  that  he  does  not  touch 
in  his  genre  pictures,  and  he  strikes  chords  the  most  diverse 
with  the  same  masterly  skill.  The  mortal  anguish  of  Ivan 
the  Terrible  as  he  sits,  a  heap  of  raging,  impotent  misery 
and  repentance,  nursing  the  bleeding  corpse  of  the  son 
he  has  just  murdered;  the  tempest  of  laughter  depicted 
on  the  faces,  the  shoulders,  the  necks,  of  the  dozen  or  more 
of  mirth-convulsed  spectators  in  his  canvas  At  the  Theatre; 
the  anxiety  and  the  expectancy  on  the  faces  of  the  man 
and  the  woman  in  his  Return  of  the  Exile  from  Siberia — 
are  all  as  perfect  and  as  eloquent,  each  in  its  own  way, 
as  those  ways  are  widely  and  strikingly  different.  He  is 
a  peasant  and  paints  with  peasant-like  unction.  "He  is 
the  historiographer  of  the  ceremonies  that  most  deeply 
touch  the  Russian  heart,  such  as  the  Communion  of  the 
Tsar  with  his  people,  and  the  processions  of  the  sacred 
images." 

There  are  many  essential  qualities  common  to  all  the 
secular  painters  of  Russia.  They  are  keen  observers,  they 
are  shrewd  and  brilliant  reproducers  of  real  life  and  of 
Nature.  They  are  vivid,  and  often  masterly  painters  of 
what  they  have  seen.  But  they  lack  imagination  and 
originality;  they  often  lack  ingenuity  of  composition. 
They  delight  in  doing  figures;  their  figure  drawing  is 
always  strong,  often  correct. 

There  is  very  much  I  should  like  to  jot  down  about 
Russian  architecture,  but  space  forbids.  And  there  is 
much  to  be  written  about  the  fascinating  subject  of  Rus- 


SLAVIC  AKT.  267 

sia's  religious  art,  but  I  refrain  with,  a  self-control  and  a 
fortitude  that  are  positively  Japanese,  and  will  only  speak  in 
the  briefest  way  of  the  Russian  school  of  ikon-painting. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  state  of  general  educa- 
tion in  Russia  was  deplorably  low.  Yet  the  painters  of 
ikons  and  the  manuscript  illuminators,  who  were  called 
"  Good  Masters/'  were  compelled  to  attain  a  certain  amount 
of  learning.  They  were  especially  obliged  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  Scriptures,  the  Fathers,  and  the  Lives  of  the 
Saints.  Each  of  these  "  Good  Masters "  had  his  own 
special  branch:  one  did  the  drawing,  another  painted  the 
faces,  the  figures,  or  the  arms.  Each  taught  his  pupils 
his  own  speciality,  and  his  own  speciality  only.  How  Chi- 
nese! From  a  quaint  seventeenth-century  account  of 
what  principles  were  instilled,  and  how,  into  the  minds 
of  the  ikon-makers,  and  indeed  of  all  who  were  engaged 
in  the  painting  or  adorning  of  religious  pictures,  I  extract 
the  following  most  quotable  passage: 

"  A  painter  is  to  be  godly,  steady,  not  given  to  laugh- 
ing, not  a  thief,  or  a  murderer;  pure  in  body  and  soul. 
He  must  frequently  visit  the  Fathers  (the  clergy),  fast  and 
pray.  He  may  then  paint  the  pictures  of  Our  Lord  from 
the  model  of  the  old  painters.  If  he  so  live,  the  Tsar  will 
take  him  and  have  him  instructed.  He  will  send  him 
to  the  Fathers  and  see  that  he  lives  in  purity,  and  if  God 
give  him  the  grace  to  be  clever  in  his  work,  and  if  he  live 
purely,  then  he  shall  become  equal  to  his  master.  And  if 
a  disciple  paint  badly,  then  the  master  shall  be  repri- 
manded as  a  warning  to  others,  and  the  pupil  shall  be  told 
not  to  meddle  any  more  with  painting.  And  if  any  teacher 
shall  hide  his  art  from  his  disciple,  he  shall  be  tortured  in 
hell-fire,  as  was  done  to  him  who  hid  the  talent.  And 
whoever  shall  paint  badly,  or  not  according  to  the  given 
model,  or  shall  live  impurely,  shall  be  expelled,  there  being 
other  trades  besides  ikon-painting." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   GLIMPSE   AT  FINNISH  KUSSIA. 

IT  would  be  easy  for  me  to  detain  the  reader's  atten- 
tion in  and  about  St.  Petersburg,  for  that  city  contains 
so  many  magnificent  buildings,  so  many  objects  of  his- 
torical and  national  significance,  and  is  in  itself  so  fascinat- 
ing a  study  on  account  of  its  phenomenal  creation — the  work 
of  a  stupendous  will  and  a  well-nigh  supernatural  activity — 
and  on  account  of  its  value  to  the  future  of  Eussia,  that 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  fill  a  sizable  volume  with  notes 
on  what  I  saw  and  learned  while  in  the  capital  of  the 
north,  the  "  window  which  looks  out  on  Europe."  I  might 
drag  the  reader  through  the  wonders  of  the  Hermitage, 
the  beauties  of  the  Winter  Palace;  I  might  discuss  with 
him  the  splendour  of  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Isaac;  the  dif- 
ferent public  buildings  would  form  the  subject  of  an  en- 
tire chapter,  and  still  leave  much  unsaid  that  is  well  worth 
the  saying.  A  discussion  of  the  wide  difference  existing 
between  this  modern  capital  and  the  capital  of  the  south, 
of  the  divergence  in  view  of  the  two  populations,  would 
serve  for  pleasant  reading  to  the  student  of  the  Rus;  and 
the  almost  miraculous  manner  in  which  St.  Petersburg  was 
built  and  is  maintained  in  the  face  of  the  constant  on- 
slaughts of  the  Gulf  of  Finland — all  these  themes  are  of 
interest,  and  supply  data  for  extended  writing.  But  I 
must  cry  halt  to  my  pen  and  turn  toward  home. 

We  left  St.  Petersburg  on  a  beautiful  summer  evening 
by  sea.  The  journey  through  Finland  may  be  made  by 
rail,  but  it  is  infinitely  more  interesting  by  water;  and,  as 
we  were  all  good  sailors,  and  had  had  by  this  time  a 

268 


I 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  FINNISH  RUSSIA. 

good  deal  of  Russian  railway  travel,  we  determined  to  take 
ship. 

Our  vessel,  the  steamship  Dobeln,  commanded  by  Cap- 
tain Ernst  Hedman,  was  in  every  way  a  stanch,  comfortable, 
and  satisfactory  boat.  The  captain  was  a  splendid  big 
fellow  of  commanding  appearance  and  most  agreeable  man- 
ners. He  did  everything  for  the  comfort  of  his  passengers, 
and  the  journey  was  one  to  be  pleasantly  remembered  in 
every  way.  We  were  getting  more  and  more  into  the  land 
of  continued  daylight,  and  I  recall  as  an  incident  that  im- 
pressed me  at  the  time  that  my  mother  wrote  a  letter  with- 
out artificial  light  of  any  kind,  on  the  deck  of  the  Dobeln, 
at  the  hour  of  midnight.  Our  first  port  of  call  was  at  the 
capital  of  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Finland,  which  the  procla- 
mation of  the  coronation,  it  will  be  remembered,  declares 
to  be  one  and  inseparable  from  the  Russian  Empire.  Hel- 
singfors  is  situated  most  picturesquely  on  the  northern 
shore  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  and  is  protected  from  ap- 
proach by  the  sea  in  both  an  artificial  and  natural  manner 
that  is  simply  impregnable.  The  fortress  which  guards 
the  entrance  to  the  harbour  is  so  strongly  placed  that  it 
is  known  as  the  Gibraltar  of  the  North.  It  is  called 
Sveaborg,  and  commands  from  both  sides  a  channel  that 
is  not  more  than  two  hundred  feet  wide.  In  1855  it  was 
attacked  by  the  combined  fleets  of  France  and  England, 
but,  though  sorely  tried,  it  was  never  taken.  The  entrance 
through  this  channel  is  very  beautiful.  The  heights  on 
either  hand  are  covered  with  attractive  foliage,  and  the 
grim  face  of  the  fortress  is  softened  by  a  mantle  of  age 
that  adds  to  its  picturesqueness.  In  the  distance  the  first 
object  that  strikes  and  holds  the  eye  is  the  remarkable 
Greek  Church,  which  has  a  large  central  gilt  dome  sur- 
rounded by  thirteen  smaller  ones.  Wherever  the  roof  of 
this  building  is  likely  to  be  covered  with  snow  in  winter, 
the  zinc  has  been  painted  a  dazzling  white;  and  the  effect 
is  that  of  a  building  continually  topped  with  snow.  Stand- 
ing out  from  the  background  of  other  buildings  and  the 
dim  outline  of  verdure  beyond,  this  roof  serves  as  a  land- 
mark which  one  can  not  miss.  The  buildings  of  Hel- 


270  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

singfors  are  of  plaster,  painted  yellow;  its  university  is 
a  fine  group  of  buildings,  and  contains  a  library  which  is 
both  extensive  and  well  chosen.  The  whole  place  wears 
an  aspect  of  thrift  and  prosperity.  Swedish  is  chiefly 
spoken;  the  Duchy  has  its  own  mint  and  its  own  coinage, 
which  is  different  from  that  of  other  parts  of  Eussia.  The 
atmosphere  here  is  divided  between  loyalty  to  Eussia  and 
fondness  for  the  ancient  Swedish  lineage,  though  Helsing- 
fors  was  made  the  capital  to  the  detriment  of  Abo,  the 
former  seat  of  Government,  on  account  of  the  greater  at- 
tachment to  the  Eussian  throne  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Helsingfors. 

All  along  the  quay  at  which  we  landed  I  noticed  hun- 
dreds of  fishwives  dealing  in  their  finny  wares.  The  fish 
were  as  various  in  size  and  kind  as  the  women  who  sold 
them  were  in  appearance  and  manner.  Most  of  these 
humble  fish-dealers  were  of  uncertain  age,  and  of  very 
uncertain  appearance  and  cleanliness;  but  I  recall  several 
that  were  extremely  pretty  in  a  wild  rustic  way  that  was 
set  off  charmingly  by  their  picturesque  dresses.  I  secured 
a  picture  of  one — the  Queen  of  the  Quay — who  had  dark, 
laughing  eyes,  a  smile  that  would  have  made  her  fortune 
on  the  stage,  and  a  manner  full  of  chic  and  bonhomie. 
She  wore  over  her  head  a  handkerchief  of  soft  white  ma- 
terial picked  out  with  scarlet  spots,  and  loosely  knotted 
under  her  chin;  beneath  a  tiny  shawl  of  rich  brown,  deco- 
rated with  spangles  of  gilt,  she  wore  a  tight-fitting  bodice 
of  tender  pink;  her  skirt  was  a  bright  green,  trimmed 
down  the  side  with  gold  braid  and  at  the  bottom  encir- 
cled with  rows  of  black  braid.  On  her  bare  feet  were 
wooden  clogs,  and  her  bare  arms  and  hands  vcre  evidently 
subjects  of  personal  vanity,  as  she  kept  them  constantly 
on  the  move.  She  made  a  pretty  contrast  to  some  of  her 
neighbours,  and  was  more  constantly  surrounded  by  cus- 
tomers than  any  of  the  rest,  the  members  of  the  sterner 
sex  predominating. 

As  we  had  an  entire  day,  and  perhaps  more,  to  spend 
in  Helsingfors,  we  determined  to  make  it  a  day  of  picnick- 
ing. We  engaged  two  carriages  for  our  party  from  the 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  FINNISH  RUSSIA.  271 

principal  hotel  in  the  place,  had  several  baskets  gener- 
ously filled,  and  capturing  a  waiter  to  attend  to  the 
spreading  of  the  lunch,  drove  merrily  off  to  explore  the 
rural  environs  of  the  capital  of  Finland.  Our  objective 
point  lay  several  miles  out;  and  to  reach  it  we  drove 
along  a  well-made  road  bordered  on  both  sides  by  beau- 
tiful scenery,  and  passed  several  attractive  villas,  evidently 
the  residences  of  the  wealthier  class.  The  great  park  in 
which  we  dined  is  the  frequent  resort  of  pleasure  parties 
from  the  city;  and,  spreading  our  cloth  upon  the  grass, 
we  had  as  jolly  a  time  as  if  we  had  been  camping  out  in 
the  Adirondacks  or  spending  a  holiday  upon  one  of  the 
Thousand  Islands.  After  lunch  G.  and  I  determined  that 
the  lakes  in  this  region  were  altogether  too  provocative 
of  sailing  to  be  left  without  an  attempt  on  our  part  at 
amateur  seamanship,  so  we  started  off  in  quest  of  a  boat. 

G.  assured  me  that  he  was  an  excellent  yachtsman,  and 
had  noticed  a  place  where  we  could  no  doubt  secure  a 
boat.  Both  averments  were  subsequently  modified  by  what 
occurred.  We  went  from  one  point  to  another,  crossing 
innumerable  bridges  in  quest  of  the  boat  which  G.  had 
seen.  Like  the  Will-o'-the-wisp,  the  owner  of  the  boat 
seemed  to  recede  from  us  the  more  we  hunted  him.  At 
length,  however,  we  discovered  him.  He  was  most  polite 
and  obliging  and  said  that  of  course  we  could  have  it. 
He  could  see  that  we  were  sailor  men,  and  it  would  be  a 
pleasure  to  him  to  accommodate  us.  So  in  we  jumped, 
and  started  back  for  the  rest  of  our  party.  At  first  all 
went  swimmingly,  and  I  thought  we  were  in  for  a  charm- 
ing sail.  G.  seemed  to  be  verifying  his  boasted  yachts- 
manship,  at  least  so  far  as  good-natured  sang  froid  could 
justify  it;  and  it  seemed  likely  that  in  a  few  moments 
we  should  reach  our  party,  and  spend  a  pleasant  afternoon 
upon  the  water.  But  man  proposes  and  Boreas  disposes 
where  sail-boats  are  concerned.  A  dead  calm  flattened  our 
sail  and  left  us  under  the  lee  of  one  of  the  smaller  islands, 
quite  a  distance  from  and  out  of  view  of  our  party.  The 
situation  was  unattractive.  A  fierce  sun  was  beating  down; 
where  we  were  the  little  breeze  was  quite  shut  off  from  us, 


272  IN  JOYFUL  RUSSIA. 

the  boat  was  too  heavy  for  either  of  us  to  row,  as  we  quickly 
decided,  and  we  simply  had  to  sit  and  take  it.  We  lay 

there  for  four  mortal  hours,  roasting  and .  At  length 

G.,  who  has  a  swift  and  ready  eye  for  the  "beautiful,  dis- 
covered a  young  girl  on  the  island  opposite  to  us.  He 
signalled  to  her  and  she  answered.  Here  was  our  Grace 
Darling.  She  quickly  rowed  round  to  where  we  were,  and 
revealed  to  us  what  a  truly  simple  art  oarsmanship  is  when 
one  understands  it.  We  abandoned  our  sloop  and  she 
rowed  us  back  to  where  we  wanted  to  go,  and  G.,  who  is 
usually  so  gallant,  absolutely  declined  my  suggestion  that 
such  devotion  called  for  the  display  of  some  gallantry  on 
his  part,  objecting  that  the  maiden  had  dissipated  his 
hopes  by  appearing  short  of  an  eye,  and  otherwise  not  up 
to  his  standard  of  female  beauty. 

The  afternoon  was  now  far  spent,  and  we  returned  to 
the  town.  Our  party  had  been  much  alarmed  by  our  long 
absence  and  imagined  that  all  kinds  of  evil  had  befallen 
us.  We  dined  that  night  in  the  public  gardens,  which 
were  prettily  illuminated  and  in  which  a  very  good  band 
was  playing  during  the  evening,  and  at  1  A.  M.  we  left 
for  Abo,  the  former  capital  of  Finland.  The  approach 
to  this  delightful  town  is  beautiful  beyond  all  exaggera- 
tion. It  is  the  great  summer  resort  for  wealthy  Eussians, 
the  numerous  islands  through  which  we  passed  being  dotted 
here  and  there  with  beautiful  residences.  The  approach 
to  Abo  by  sea  has  been  compared  to  a  journey  through 
the  Thousand  Islands  on  the  St.  Lawrence  River.  To  me 
it  was  even  more  beautiful  than  that  famous  resort;  the 
scenery  is  more  varied  and  grander. 

Our  boat  threaded  its  way  skilfully  between  the 
different  islands,  which  presented  constant  delightful 
surprises.  The  navigation  is  difficult  at  times  and 
requires  experienced  sailors.  Abo  itself  is  a  quaint  old 
town,  situated  about  three  miles  from  the  sea,  at  a 
point  where  the  waters  of  the  Gulf  of  Bothnia  are  lost 
in  the  Baltic.  Early  in  the  present  century  Abo  was 
wrested  from  Sweden  by  overwhelming  Russian  force, 
and  has  ever  since  been  a  Russian  town.  The  popu- 


A  Finnish  fisherwoman. 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  FINNISH  RUSSIA.  273 

lation  is,  however,  treated  with  considerable  latitude,  as  they 
make  their  own  laws  and,  as  in  Helsingfors,  coin  their  own 
money. 

The  leaning  of  the  people  of  Abo  is  distinctly  Swedish, 
and  the  Russian  Government  recognised  this  fact  in  remov- 
ing the  capital  to  Helsingfors.  Abo  carries  on  quite  vigorous- 
ly the  trade  of  shipbuilding,  and  has  besides  her  fisheries 
several  large  sugar  refineries  and  cotton  factories.  The 
population  is  very  prosperous,  and  has  those  simple,  pleas- 
ing ^manners  so  common  among  the  Swedes.  The  sights 
of  Abo  are  limited,  consisting,  as  in  most  European  towns, 
of  one  fine  cathedral,  which,  by  the  way,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  very  first  Christian  temple  raised  in  this  north- 
ern land.  It  is  the  seat  of  an  archbishopric.  Besides 
this  there  are  several  smaller  churches  and  the  customary 
public  buildings. 

And  this  was  our  farewell  to  Russia.  We  left  the  land 
of  the  Great  White  Tsar  with  regret.  Never  have  I  been 
more  royally  treated;  never  have  I  more  thoroughly  en- 
joyed myself  than  I  did  during  my  stay  in  Russia.  It  has 
been  the  custom  of  writers  from  the  West  to  convey  only 
a  gloomy  picture  of  the  Russian  Empire.  I  am  only  able 
to  draw  a  picture  full  of  delight  and  of  constantly  varying 
pleasure.  I  am  writing  these  closing  lines  with  the  glories 
of  the  Alps  spread  out  before  me.  I  look  up  from  my  desk, 
and  before  me  is  Pilatus,  with  a  sprinkling  of  snow  upon 
its  august  brow;  beyond  and  in  the  distance  is  the  mighty 
Jungfrau,  white  and  ominous,  yet  grand  withal;  on  my 
extreme  left  is  the  Rigi;  and  between  these  giants  are  the 
lesser  hills  spread  out  before  the  vision  like  a  panorama 
of  the  celestial  city  toward  which  the  thought  of  every 
Church — Greek,  Roman,  Egyptian,  Anglican,  Buddhist, 
Tauist,  and  all  others — bids  the  sojourner  on  earth  look 
forward  for  his  final  victory,  rest,  and  joy.  In  the  valleys 
before  me  lie  the  beautiful  Swiss  villages;  on  the  hillsides, 
and  hanging  over  the  lake  in  picturesque  carelessness,  are 
innumerable  pretty  chalets;  the  fields  are  bright  and  bear 
a  heavy  harvest,  and  the  population  all  about  is  as 
happy  and  as  free  as  the  population  of  any  land  upon  the 


274:  IN  JOYFUL  KUSSIA. 

earth,  for  Switzerland  boasts  herself  an  ideal  republic. 
So  be  it! 

And  yet  as  I  look  back  from  this  distance,  and  alto- 
gether removed  from  the  influence  of  the  immediate  Eus- 
sian  environment,  in  the  interest  of  truth  I  am  compelled 
to  say  that  in  all  that  relates  to  personal  freedom — I  mean 
by  that,  untrammelled  individualism  and  peaceful  pos- 
sibility of  life — I  found  the  Russian  people  quite  as  happy 
and  quite  as  free  to  live  their  own  lives  in  their  own  way; 
indeed,  in  many  respects  a  latitude  of  conduct  is  permitted 
in  Eussia  which  would  not  be  for  one  moment  tolerated 
here.  It  is  so  easy  to  find  fault  with  what  we  only  half 
understand.  It  is  so  difficult  to  read  aright  the  inner 
life  of  peoples  that  are  strangers  to  our  modes  of  thought, 
and  of  whom  we  may  have  formed  violent  misconceptions. 
I  have  tried  in  what  I  have  said  in  these  unpretentious 
pages  to  speak  of  Eussia  as  I  found  it.  If  any  complain 
that  they  have  found  it  otherwise,  I  can  merely  reply  that  I 
could  only  look  upon  Eussia  with  my  own  eyes;  and  as  I  saw 
it,  so  have  I  written  down  my  impressions  of  it:  A  mighty 
nation,  with  a  promise  of  a  still  greater  future;  a  simple 
happy  people,  looking  with  love  and  reverence  upon  their 
Tsar,  whom  they  delight  to  affectionately  call  "Little 
Father; "  a  land  of  unbounded  hospitality — of  cordial 
welcome  to  every  stranger  who  comes  to  enjoy;  a  proud 
people  withal — intellectually  and  nationally  proud — con- 
fident of  their  own  strength,  jealous  of  patronage,  but 
open  to  friendly  suggestion.  No  one  who  has  gone  among 
the  Eussians  in  a  spirit  of  amity  can  ever  say  that  he  was 
received  with  coldness.  I  shall  carry  with  me  always 
memories — happy  memories — of  the  glad  time  I  spent  in 
Eussia. 

Faces  of  friends  and  acquaintances  I  made  there  arise  be- 
fore me  now.  I  hear  again  their  hearty  welcomes,  their 
cheery  greetings.  I  sit  once  more  at  their  heavy-laden 
tables;  on  every  side  there  is  cheer  and  pleasure  and  wel- 
come. I  raise  my  glass  and  drink  to  the  Great  White 
Tsar,  to  the  lovely,  queenly  wife  beside  him,  and  I  drink 
as  well  to  all  the  good  friends  I  left  behind  in  Eussia,  and  I 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  FINNISH  RUSSIA.  275 

drink  to  the  entire  Eussian  people.  May  the  future  of 
Eussia  be  bright  with  the  light  of  truth,  strong  with  the 
strength  of  science,  and  happy  with  the  benign  control 
of  a  government  in  which  liberty  is  not  prostituted 
into  license,  and  which  shall  never  abuse  its  mighty 
power. 


THE   END. 


YC  76784 


>f 


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